The sun had dipped lower by the time Nick stepped back into the main street. The soft, amber light turned the stone walls gold, making the world look gentler than it ever actually was.
He rubbed his stiff fingers, still half-expecting to feel the luthen strings biting back. They throbbed faintly, a reminder that he had, in fact, spent his entire afternoon learning how to butcher music.
It was a waste of time.
But somehow… it wasn’t that much of a waste?
A chill breeze drifted down the street. Evening bells echoed from the upper quarter, long and low. The city was shifting into its nighttime rhythm, quieter in some places, louder in others. Merchants swapped cries for closing chants, while taverns lit lanterns in windows.
Nick knew what he was supposed to be doing.
He should go back to the inn.
He should check on Ray and Lexi.
He should investigate the Ember Hollow.
He should figure out how to deal with the freed slaves in his wardrobe who were probably starving by now.
Actually, he kind of had a moral obligation to focus on that last point.
He sighed. “I’m turning into a parent,” he muttered.
A cluster of market stalls remained open despite the late hour. Smoke curled from cookfires. Lamps flickered. Nick drifted toward them with unhurried steps, hands in his hoodie pockets.
One vendor, a stout man with a singed apron and no eyebrows, waved him over.
“You looking for something, lad? You’ve got the look of someone who needs a purpose. Or a pie. Which I guess are basically the same thing…”
“I’ll take a purpose if you can sell me one,” Nick replied with a grin.
“Got it. You prefer sweet pies or meat pies?”
“Uh. Yes?”
The man barked a laugh. “Fair enough.”
Nick glanced over the stock. Bags of grain, dried fruit, preserved meat wrapped in waxed paper. Good enough to store… or to feed a dozen slaves stuck in the wardrobe.
He pointed. “I’ll take those. And any you can spare.”
Another vendor two stalls down raised a brow. “Feeding an army?”
“Something like that.”
“You need any clothes?”
“Sure do. Both men’s and women’s clothes, for adults, teenagers, and children.”
The former slaves needed stuff to wear after all, and he wasn’t about to give them all his old cosplay outfits.
A few more vendors nearby smelled money and wandered over like hyenas, offering their wares as well.
Before long, they had a pile of items that would require at least two carts for a normal person. There was enough grain to last a dozen people several weeks, bundles of cheap shirts, a wide selection of cheap boots, blankets, biscuits, and piles of dried meat.
The vendors exchanged looks.
“How’re you gonna haul all this? We can crate it up, but…”
“Let’s go with that for now.”
They fetched a large, reinforced crate and filled it until the lid barely shut. It creaked ominously as they hammered nails in.
One vendor wiped his brow. “Right. You’ll want to rent a mule or horse… maybe two. And a cart. This thing’s heavier than my mother-in-law.”
Nick tilted his head. “I should be fine, I think?”
“A few strong lads, then,” the vendor insisted.
Nick walked over to the crate and put his hand on the rim, testing the weight.
Then he lifted it with one hand.
He raised it overhead to check the balance.
Silence spread across the row of stalls.
The vendor who recommended a mule stared. “Or… uh… I guess… that works?”
A passing guard stopped mid-step.
Nick held the crate steady. “This should be doable.”
“Well, I’ll be damned,” another vendor muttered. “I’m getting ten years of back pain just looking at it.”
Nick adjusted his grip so it rested comfortably against one shoulder.
“I’ve been curious for a while now, but haven’t had time to look into something. Do you have a public library around here somewhere?”
The vendors blinked at him.
“A library?” one repeated.
Another vendor pointed shakily down the street. “There’s a place three streets over, a little out of the way. It’s got a real fancy name and everything.”
Nick nodded. “Thanks.”
He walked away carrying the crate like it was a comically large pillow. It was a little difficult to balance it, but the weight wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle.
“I wonder how strong I am,” he mused.
By all means, he’d put off looking into what his stats actually meant for far too long. There was meaning in most of the things he’d done since coming to this city, but his foundational knowledge was still abysmally poor.
But, now that he had some time to himself, perhaps spending some time in the library could help with that.
Evening deepened. The light shifted into gold, then into bruised pink. Lanterns lit along the street, throwing warm circles of light across cobblestones worn smooth by generations of boots. He blended into the crowd surprisingly well for a beautiful man carrying a crate larger than he was.
That is to say, everybody was staring at him, but nobody approached or challenged him.
As he reached the location the vendors had pointed him toward, a massive building drew his attention. He focused first on the sign:
Hall of Resplendent Knowledge
-By decree of Strength
-Sanctified by Beauty
-Cursed by Secrets
He snorted. “Fancy name indeed. Strength, Beauty, and… Secrets? Is that another god?”
Before he went inside, though, he needed to deal with this ridiculously large crate. He wandered into a nearby alleyway and turned a corner until he was hidden from the main street. Making sure there was nobody nearby, he quickly summoned his wardrobe and shoved the crate inside, then dismissed it almost as quickly.
Nick casually stepped back onto the main street, brushing a stray cobweb off his sleeve. The Hall of Resplendent Knowledge towered at the end of the lane, its marble facade catching the last of the evening sun.
In a single word, it was massive.
It wasn’t a palace or cathedral, but a building built by people with a clear purpose in mind.
Wide steps climbed to a set of polished bronze doors, each engraved with overlapping motifs: a sword wrapped in scrolls, an open eye surrounded by blooming flowers, and a cracked mask split down the center. Columns flanked the entrance, carved with meticulous detail. Orcs, humans, beastkin, elves, dwarves… every race holding tablets, books, or scrolls. At the base of the pillar, a small inscription read:
Strength Teaches.
Beauty Illuminates.
Secrets Tremble.
Nick stared up at it.
“A religion-sponsored library…”
Considering his biases from his previous life, he couldn’t help but assume that the involvement of religion probably bent the truth in whatever direction best suited the clergy.
Of course, there was a different kind of value in finding out history from the perspective of the winners.
And, from what he’d seen so far, those who followed the gods were definitely the winners in this world.
He climbed the steps, his boots thudding softly against the immaculate stone. As he ascended, the air started to feel different. Quieter, somehow. And heavier.
Two guards flanked the entrance, each wearing silver-threaded uniforms. They didn’t look like city guards. The outfits were more ceremonial, each bearing the crest of Strength on one shoulder and Beauty on the other. Their weapons were long, polished staves carved with runes.
One guard eyed Nick as he approached.
“Good evening,” the guard said, dipping his chin. “Here to study?”
Nick shifted his weight. “I… guess so?”
“You guess so?”
He cleared his throat. “Yeah. I’m looking for information on… well, a lot of things.”
The guard’s posture softened. “Then may your truths be sharp, and your understanding beautiful.”
Nick blinked. “…Thanks?”
The bronze doors slid open without creaking.
Inside, he got his first look at the sheer scale of the library.
Bookshelves soared upward, reaching for the ceiling that stretched in vast arches, painted with scenes of scholars holding lanterns against darkness. Runes along the supporting pillars glowed softly, pulsing with the rhythm of candlelight. A dozen long wooden tables filled the central hall, each surrounded by chairs, each already half-filled with readers.
A mezzanine circled the second level, its railing carved to resemble flowing script. Stained-glass windows lined the upper walls, depicting stylized figures in radiant poses: scholars offering tomes to children, warriors reading manuals, judges holding scrolls in one hand and scales in the other.
Lanterns hung at regular intervals, flames held behind enchanted glass that diffused the light into a soft, perfect glow. There were no shadows in the library, not even under the tables.
Someone had presumably gone out of their way to incorporate that into the design. The message was clear:
Truth deserved illumination.
At the far end of the hall, a massive mural dominated the wall. It depicted two deities standing on either side of a great library door:
A broad shouldered warrior with a sword made of quill-feathers, hand outstretched toward a glowing book.
A woman holding a mirror angled toward the book so its light spread outward like dawn.
Between them, deep in the painted shadows of the mural’s arch, a hooded third figure lurked, its face split by a jagged line.
Secrets.
Even as paint, the figure was unsettling.
But the brass plaque beneath the mural cheerfully read:
Strength and Beauty guard the truth.
Let Secrets be afraid.
Nick couldn’t help but be impressed with their dedication to the religious iconography. It was a fricken library, for gods’ sake. Did they really think the gods cared about some random building?
Then again, maybe they did? It wasn’t like he knew much about these gods.
He took a few steps deeper inside.
Readers whispered at long tables, pages turned with quiet reverence, and scribes moved between shelves like bees tending their hie. A young man in a crimson vest polished a row of inkwells. A middle-aged woman in a lavender sash murmured to a group of apprentices, pointing out how to organize treatises by era.
Nick closed his eyes and took a moment to soak in the atmosphere.
“This place is… nice,” he admitted under his breath.
It felt like dropping into a dream, returning to an era when libraries didn’t just have books, they had meaning. They were places where the world quieted enough for a person to breathe.
He hadn’t realized how much he missed this.
A soft voice interrupted his thoughts.
“You look lost.”
He turned.
Across the table stood a young woman, perhaps in her early twenties. She had soft blonde hair braided over one shoulder, a pale gown that flowed like painted moonlight, and eyes the soft blue of morning frost. She held a leather-bound tome to her chest.
Nick stared for a moment.
‘Beautiful…’ he inwardly murmured.
But not in a glamorous, overwhelming way.
More like the calm that happens before dawn.
Gentle and comfortable, even in silence.
Outwardly, she looked… curious. And slightly amused?
Nick shrugged. “Do I look lost?”
“Everyone looks lost the first time they come in here,” she said. “Despite this place being open to the public, not very many people bother to come.”
“That… checks out,” Nick replied.
Her lips curved. “You new around here?”
“Yeah,” he said. “How could you tell?”
“You’re carrying yourself like someone expecting to be ambushed out in the open. That only happens in the non-fiction section… those guys don’t mess around.”
He laughed. “I might end up wandering into the non-fiction section,” he said. “Though the non-fiction here would probably be a fantasy section back home…”
“Oh?” she raised an eyebrow. “And where is that?”
“Would you believe me if I said ‘another world’?”
“Maybe, maybe not,” she replied. “Absurd claims require proof, which I’m sure you have no intention of providing.”
“Fair enough.”
She shifted the book in her hands. “What are you looking for? History? Geography? Monster lore? Poetry? Treaty records? Herbology? Theological treatises?”
“Yes,” Nick said.
She paused. “To… all of them?”
“…Yes.”
Her smile grew.
“Then sit.”
She motioned toward a table tucked under one of the stained-glass windows.
Nick hesitated.
This was the kind of invitation he usually avoided. Interacting with people, in general, had a way of making his life more complicated than he had the patience or bandwidth to deal with at the moment.
But something about her made him want to listen.
Well, it was probably pretty-privilege or something dumb like that.
He shrugged and followed her.
“Do you work here?” he asked as he took a seat.
“No,” she said, settling across from him with effortless grace. “I visit libraries whenever I can, though, in whatever city I happen to be in. Officially, I’m not here at the moment, so I have plenty of time to spend reading whatever I want. It’s been heaven.”
He glanced at her again. Something about her presence felt… familiar? Not personally, but in the way certain people naturally belonged to certain places.
She opened her book.
The cover read:
Of Origins and Mythos;
The Man Who Came From Below
Nick narrowed his eyes.
‘Is it a… fairy tale?’
She looked up. “You know it?”
“…No,” he said. “What’s it about?”
Her smile softened. “It’s my favorite story.”
She slid the book halfway across the table.
“Would you like to read it?”
Nick stared at the page.
At the title.
At her.
And then, against his better judgment, against his overflowing to-do list, against every fiber of his being telling him this was a waste of time…
He nodded.
“…Sure.”
Her eyes brightened.
She opened the book between them.
And Nick, for the first time in a very long time, let himself simply… read.
Project Knightfall 