VIOR
Mars was the smallest island in the Shattered Isles, but it carried a weight far greater than its size. More than half of its land was taken up by the Martian Library, a once-glorious structure built by the Old Sages of Seguin. The library had been a marvel of architecture and knowledge, its towering spires and vast halls a testament to the wisdom of the ancient sages. But time and war had not been kind. Its edges were scarred by fire, remnants of the ravaging flames that had swept through during Alevander’s Conquest. The once-grand roof had caved in, leaving the library’s interior exposed to the elements, its shelves now empty or charred, the sacred texts reduced to ash or scattered to the winds. What remained of the Martian Library was no longer a beacon of knowledge but a hollow shell, standing as a silent reminder of the crown's destructive reach.
Yet, desperate to rebuild their lost legacy, the people of the Shattered Isles scoured the world for the lost scrolls and books, piecing together what fragments they could. Slowly, they restored parts of the Martian Library, hoping to one day reclaim even a fraction of its former glory.
Vior and Selina lingered at the library’s entrance, cloaked in the blue scholar robes they had "acquired" from a few unfortunate souls tied up and gagged in a dark alley. Vior adjusted the uncomfortable fabric, the weight of the disguise making him feel strangely out of place.
The plan was simple, almost too simple: infiltrate the library, steal the most valuable scrolls, hide them, then get captured. From there, they would bargain for an audience with the head of House Blueveil.
Selina finished doing her hair, stabbing it into a bun with an oddly sharp hair pin. “Rember, the second floor has what we want,” she said.
“I know, I know,” Vior said, rolling his eyes. “You’ve said it ten times now.”
“Well I don’t need you wandering the library. I know how you can get.”
Before entering the library, they had to walk through a drawn out tunnel. Vior had counted about twenty-five torches—each fifteen feet apart—on each side before they finally made their way to the two guards blocking the entrance, seeming more for decoration than defense. Their blue robes were the key to entering the grand library–if it could still be called “Grand”. The inside looked more ancient than the outside. Taller too. Floors upon floors of now useless storage.
The air was thick with dust, the scent of aged paper and burnt wood clinging to every surface. A maze of empty charred wooden racks snaked around the bottom floor. Scrolls scattered on the outsides of the library, avoiding the fractured, broken dome looming hundreds of feet overhead. Vior wondered how the roof hadn’t completely collapsed yet.
A few scholars sat at wooden desks, wetting their feather pens in ink, writing strange symbols and words on parchment and expensive paper. Other’s rested their legs on the tables, too indulged in their readings to notice Vior’s arrival. Except one.
A scholar at the far end of the room stood out among the group—her hair was a striking shade of green, wild and untamed, cascading down her back in loose waves. Unlike the others, she wasn’t hunched over her work. Instead, she was standing with a quiet intensity, as though something had caught her attention. Her gaze flickered from her parchment to the entrance of the library, and then, for a brief moment, it locked onto Vior.
Vior heard the cling of a coin to his right. In the corner, a man was reclined in his seat, his clothes tattered and worn. He flipped a coin with a practiced hand, the metallic cling echoing in the otherwise quiet library. His eyes, half-hidden under the brim of a faded hat, never left the page in front of him.
The shabby man in the corner, with his coin still flipping in a lazy rhythm, seemed oblivious to their presence—if he noticed them at all. Vior’s instincts told him otherwise. He could feel the weight of the man’s gaze from across the room, even though his eyes never quite lifted from the book.
Selina nudged him, the subtle movement pulling him from his thoughts. She raised a brow, signaling that it was time to move.
He adjusted his scholar robes one last time, their fabric uncomfortable and far too stiff for his liking, then nodded. They would have to be quick—stealthy. According to Selina’s information from the bar, the stolen scrolls they’d come for were on the second floor.
The two of them glided across the floor, careful not to disturb the scholars hunched over their desks, scribbling away. Vior’s boots made soft whispers on the stone floor, the silence broken only by the occasional rustle of paper or the faint scratch of quills. His eyes flickered to the towering shelves.
As they neared one of the large, half-collapsed bookshelves, Vior’s gaze darted back to the corner where the shabby man still sat. His coin had stopped flipping. Vior stiffened, the sudden stillness of the motion unsettling. The man’s gaze finally lifted, slow and deliberate, his eyes locking onto Vior’s.
For a heartbeat, time seemed to stretch, the distance between them insignificant. The man’s eyes were the color of storm clouds—dark and unreadable. There was no recognition, no warning, but something about the way he stared made Vior’s pulse quicken.
Selina, sensing his unease, glanced over at the man and then back to Vior, her expression unreadable. She gave a small nod, as if silently urging him forward.
They had a job to do.
Vior tore his gaze away, focusing on the scrolls tucked behind a decaying shelf. A quick scan revealed what they were looking for: a bundle of delicate parchment, marked with the symbols of an ancient hand, the kind that hadn’t been repeated in centuries. The title wrote: Tales of the First Dragon.
He reached out, careful not to disturb the dust, his fingers brushing the fragile edges. As soon as the scrolls were in his hands, he motioned to Selina.
But before they could turn to leave, the soft click of a door opening echoed from behind them.
Vior’s heart skipped a beat.
He spun around just as a figure emerged—tall, broad-shouldered, and cloaked in a deep blue robe. The unmistakable insignia of House Rello, keepers of the Martian Library, adorned the chest.
“Looking for something, scholars?” The voice was smooth, almost too calm, as if the figure had been watching them for far longer than they’d realized.
Vior noticed a peculiar green head slither from behind him. Tch. I knew that ugly tramp wasn’t a scholar.
The world seemed to slow as Vior’s mind raced. Their plan had been simple, but it was unraveling fast. They’d been spotted. There was no time to hide or escape. They were trapped.
Selina took a step forward, her posture changing in an instant, calm and collected, as if she’d expected this moment. "We were simply... admiring the collection," she said, her voice laced with false confidence. "Perhaps you could help us with some guidance?"
The man tilted his head, eyes narrowing as he studied them both. “A little too much admiration, I think. Especially given the peculiar circumstances.”
Vior felt a cold chill in his spine as the man took a slow step forward. He wasn't just a scholar. Not with that look.
Selina’s hand subtly shifted toward her hair. Her hidden blade, no doubt.
Cling! The ring of a flipped coin sliced the tension.
It was him, the strange, mysterious man that was hidden in the corner. He stepped in
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front of the commotion with an easy-going confidence.
“These two were helping me pick my next read,” the shabby man said, his voice a smooth, almost lazy drawl, stepping confidently in front of the robed figure and his little green side-kick companion. He twirled the coin in through his fingers, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
The man from House Rello paused, his sharp eyes flicking from the shabby man to Vior and Selina, then back again. For a moment, the tension hung thick in the air, a standoff just on the edge of breaking.
“And what makes you think I’ll believe that?” the blue-robed man asked, his voice no longer as smooth, but with a hint of suspicion creeping in.
The shabby man grinned, a toothy smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Because, my friend, I have no reason to lie to you.” He took a step closer, a presence so casual it bordered on reckless. “And because you’d rather not make an enemy of me.”
Vior caught the subtle shift in the stranger's tone—a warning, perhaps—but it was the way the shabby man looked at the blue-robed figure that unsettled him. There was something more behind that gaze, something unspoken but potent.
The man from House Rello hesitated, his eyes narrowing. He seemed to weigh his options, his attention flicking back to the green-haired girl, whose gaze was still fixed on Vior, though she stood quietly, as if waiting for the moment to unfold.
Finally, the man sighed, a sharp exhale of air. “You seem to have a peculiar way of making friends, I’ll give you that,” he said, his gaze flicking over the trio once more. “But know this—House Rello doesn’t take kindly to thieves, or anyone who thinks they can come in here, uninvited, and walk away with their treasures.”
The shabby man didn’t flinch, not even a twitch in his expression. He let the coin spin between his fingers, seemingly unbothered as he watched, waiting for the duo to retreat out of his range. The green-haired finally looked away from them, her eyes flickering to the man they’d just encountered. Vior couldn’t shake the feeling that she knew more than she was letting on.
Without warning, the shabby man’s hand shot out, faster than Vior could react, and snatched the scroll from Vior’s hands.
Selina tensed, her fingers already curled around the hilt of her hidden blade, but Vior placed a hand on her arm, subtly urging restraint. He knew better than to make any rash moves—this man wasn’t just some street rat.
The shabby man unrolled the scroll with an exaggerated flourish, revealing the delicate parchment inside. He turned it toward Vior with an almost theatrical air.
“This,” he said, “is the Tales of the First Dragon—a work of such value that it could turn the tide of empires if it fell into the wrong hands. You thought you could steal it that easily?” His face wrinkled, half amused, half-curious.
“Why did you help us?” Vior asked.
The shabby man’s grin widened at Vior’s question, as if he’d been waiting for it. He held the scroll up, letting it catch the dim light of the library, its edges fluttering slightly. There was a spark of something dangerous in his eyes, a glint that made the room feel even colder.
“Help you?” he repeated, his voice dripping with amusement. “I didn’t help you. I merely let you do the hard work for me.”
Vior’s mind raced, trying to make sense of the situation. So this man wasn’t a simple thief—or a fool. His thoughts flashed back to the moment the shabby man had snatched the scroll so effortlessly.
“You could’ve taken it,” Selina spoke up, her voice low and steady, though her eyes never left the man. “So why let us get it in the first place?”
“Let’s just call it…curiosity. A northmen in the scattered isles. I’ve been following you guys for a while now. Clearly so have others.” He gestures to the two retreating nuisances. .
Vior’s hands clenched. “How did you know?”
The man’s laugh was hysterical, ruining the library's stillness. “You’re kidding right? Did you really think some loose robes were enough to disguise your towering figure? I mean sure you're much leaner than most northmen i’ve seen but you can’t hide that god-given height of yours.” The man circled Vior, hand on chin as he inspected him like a statue. “Are all northmen sculpted like this?”
“What do you want?” Vior asked, trying to buy enough time to think of something, anything.
Ignoring Vior, the man seamlessly moved on to Selina. “You, on the other hand, I cannot seem to place. Storm Vale? High Guard?”
Vior stiffened, his jaw tightening as the shabby man’s words drew more attention than he would’ve liked. Selina shot him a sharp glare, her expression screaming, Control yourself.
“Do you always talk this much?” Vior muttered, his voice low but firm, trying to deflect the focus from himself and Selina.
The shabby man grinned, clearly unfazed by Vior’s irritation. “Only when I’m amused. And you, my towering friend, are quite the spectacle.” He gestured to the ill-fitting robes. “Next time, maybe try a size smaller. Or perhaps disguise yourself as a tree? You’d blend right in.”
Vior’s patience was wearing thin,this man reminded him of his brother, Von—all jokes and giggles. But Selina stepped forward, placing herself between the two men with a disarming smile. “Enough with the theatrics,” she said, her tone light but edged with warning. “Why don’t you tell us what you really want?”
The man’s grin didn’t falter, but his gaze shifted, the humor in his eyes giving way to something sharper. “What I want?” he repeated, drawing the words out as he took a step back. “What I want is to know why a northmen—clearly out of their element—and..whatever you are, are sneaking around the ruins of a library, pretending to be scholars. Doesn’t exactly scream ‘normal’ to me.
“Would you believe it if I said I liked books?” Vior said, his voice steady, his eyes flickering around the library, counting the potential enemies. Of course this is the one time he’d be without his sword.
“Northmen and books. They’re like ice and fire.”
“Well it’s a good thing I'm half Blueveil,” Vior said casually, as if the words held no weight.
But the man flinched, fumbling with his coin. “Half Blueveil?”
Vior made a teasing smirk. “What? Are you…curious?”
The shabby man froze, then smiled, then shrugged, flipping his coin idly between his fingers. “Call it curiosity. Or maybe... self-preservation.” He leaned closer, his grin returning. “You see, people who get caught stealing from the House of Rello tend to end up very, very dead. And I’d rather not get dragged down with you, halfling.”
Vior flinched. That last word—halfling—echoed in his eldest brother's voice, sharp and cold. He felt a mix of panic and anger rising.
Selina’s smile didn’t waver, but Vior could see the tension in her shoulders. “Then maybe you should stay out of it,” she said coolly.
“Ah, but where’s the fun in that?” the man replied, stepping back with an exaggerated flourish. “Besides, I like you two. You’ve got... character.” His coin flipped one last time, landing neatly in his palm. “So, here’s the deal. You tell me what you’re really after, and I might just make sure you walk out of here in one piece.”
Vior exchanged a glance with Selina. The plan was already in shambles, and this man was clearly more than he seemed. But trusting him? That was another gamble entirely.
“We’re not here for you,” Vior said finally, his voice measured. “So stay out of our way, and we’ll stay out of yours.”
The man chuckled, shaking his head as he tucked the coin into his pocket. To Vior’s and Selina’s surprise, he actually gave them the scroll. “Suit yourself. But don’t say I didn’t warn you when things go south.”
With that, he turned on his heel and strolled off, humming an out-of-tune melody as if he hadn’t just shattered their cover.
Selina exhaled sharply, her hand brushing against the hilt of her hair pin. “That man’s going to be trouble,” she muttered.
Vior nodded, his gaze fixed on the shabby figure disappearing into the maze of shelves. “No,” he said grimly. “He is trouble.”
They were no longer the unnoticeable couple that walked into the library. The pressure of many gazes made the path to exit feel too slow, forcing them to speed up to counter the slowness. Before they left, Vior took one last glance at the right corner where the man sat reclined, flipping his coin and reading his book as if he hadn’t moved from his spot at all.
The doors were opened by the two guards and they walked past them, once again stepping down the drawn out hallway. Moss clung to the walls. Half of the torches were waving fresh smoke into the air. The shadows flickered, waving like ghosts. The silence was deafening.
Too quiet.
Vior felt something—an instinct. It heightened his senses, calmed his breathing. The same feeling he had on the battlefield.
“Ambush.” He said softly, just loud enough for Selina to hear. As the word rolled off his tongue, an idea stuck him, tugging his lips into a smirk.
“What’s the plan?” Selina whispered. But one fleeting glance at Vior and she rolled her eyes, having received her answer. One of these days, his crazy plans were gonna get her killed. She sighed, gradually sliding her hand down from her hair, surrendering, preparing for the inevitable.
They took a few more steps, the dim torchlight flickering faintly along the mossy walls. Then it happened—a blur of motion as figures peeled from the shadows ahead, drawing their weapons with a metallic rasp. Vior’s focus, however, remained above, where the real threat lurked.
Right about…now!
The green-haired woman leapt first, dropping from the ceiling with something in hand, her target clear: the back of Vior’s head. He didn’t react, didn’t even flinch. At the last possible moment, her weapon connected with the base of his skull, sending a sickening jolt through his body as he flopped to the ground, unconscious.