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The Lost Stars ChronicleChapter 26: Inside The Archives
Bjarn was feeling very, very uneasy. Otto’s little speech about Synchronicity had unnerved him, and Anardan’s comment about the lust of the wolves. On top of that...four other men suddenly appear out of nowhere and join there group. He could tell that his companions were also uncomfortable, especially Shainya, who’s whole family had been killed by Dragon Masters. There certainly was nothing Bjarn or the others could do about the newcomers Drake, Draco, Drakkon, Strider and Swift, so they simply kept quiet about their worries. Bjarn certainly would have preferred all four of them suddenly spout out a speech about fate, hand over tokens and depart, but they seemed to be content to simply travel along with the Fellowship.
The days passed, and nothing that even hinted at evil or bad luck afflicted the party of twelve. On the forth day since the timberwolf ambush, they had traversed many miles of snowy terrain and frozen rivers without trouble, and were now less than ten miles from Orion, capital of Classic LEGOland and the seat of the Emperor. As they sat around a campfire for what they all assumed was the last time, not much was said. They hadn’t gotten to know one another very well, but there was now an aura of trust that had developed over the last four days.
As Drakkon and Aros fried the last of the bacon, Vince inspected Luxus’s papoose. The little boy was sleeping soundly, firmly wrapped in the grisly ribcage of the wolf and a very thick blanket. The flesh had not started to rot, for it was still too cold outside.
“I wouldn’t have thought it myself, but that Otto was right.” commented Vince, “Sticking that kid in a wolf's belly probably save his lil life.”
After they ate, they all went down into Orion, where the guards let them in with only a curious glance. Once inside Orion, Bjarn said, “Gentlemen, I want to thank you all for your assistance and accompaniment. But now, however, our ways must part. Please, if you are ever traveling in Forestmen land, simply show any Forestmen this token and they will let you pass.”
Bjarn handed over four little tokens roughly carved with the Sign of the Elk on one side and a obscure little symbol on the other.
“Thanks…” said Swift awkwardly.
They pocketed the tokens and then shook hands with all. As they began to depart, Bjarn pulled Voolmark aside and said, “Voolmark, I want you to watch them magically and make sure they don't follow us. Friendly they may be, but I don’t want to take any chances. Voolmark nodded. Drakkon, Vince, Draco Strider and Swift were already heading for a pub. They waved a final goodbye and the Fellow disappeared behind a corner.
“Ok,” Bjarn said, “First things first, we need to gain admittance to the Classic Library. We needn’t consult the Emperor on our mission, no doubt he has enough on his plate as it is. Once I reveal my leadership to any guardsmen we can go almost anywhere.”
“Is that why you didn’t want those four following?” asked Sir Dractor.
“Yes. We simply can't trust them yet, we haven’t known any of them long enough. Now, let’s get cleaned up as soon as possible.”
The Fellowship of the Pendants continued through the slums of Orion, stopping only once to clean up at an inn, dumping Luxus’s grisly warmer in a back alley. Now fresh and looking a bit better than before, they made their way to the gigantic library.
The Classic Library was located in a far east wing of the Yellow Castle. It, like most of the other important buildings in Orion, was constructed of fine and rare 'Golden' stone, found only in small outcrops on the Black Falcon isle of Meusmyus. The high ramparts and parapets of stone were now crusted with dagger-like icicles and layers of frozen snow, as was the great ribbed copper dome that was set upon the roof of the library like an upturned sand green bowl. It reminded all of them of the Drullen Bell Council dome at Drullen Bell Keep, except this dome had no hole in the center. The whole expanse of the library was majestic and impressive, all the way down until the while fairytale snow became dirty and slushy.
Climbing up the layered steps, Bjarn marched forward and nodded curtly at the four guards clad in red furs with gray flared helms and spears.
“Greetings.” said one of the guards leisurely and politely, “Who are you and what business do ye have at the Classic Library?”
“I am Lord Bjarn, Leader of the League of Forestmen, and these are my compatriots. My business is my own.”
Bjarn promptly handed over a battered scroll confirming his statement. The guard read it and then snapped to attention.
“Very good, Lord Bjarn, sir.” replied the guard formally, and stepped aside to allow them to enter.
Bjarn nodded his thanks and pushed open the giant, fifteen-foot-high doors with great effort.
“Steward, do you have a room we can rent?” asked Swift
“Well, sure, we have the best rooms at our disposal, here’s the key to room twelve, it’s the room at your left side when you go upstairs.”
“Thank you.” Swift said, grabbing the key.
“Here you go.” Draco said, handing over some ales he already ordered.
“No thanks,” Swift and Strider said, “we’ll be on guard tonight.”
“Well then, I will take yours, I’ll drink it with pleasure.”
After they were down a couple of hours they went upstairs to their room.
“To bad we didn’t learn to know those guys better.” Drake said.
“There wasn't enough time to learn to know each other and they didn’t really trusted us.” said Strider.
“They knew each other better then we know each other, they traveled a lot together and had many adventures.” Swift said.
“How do you know?”
“Those were some of the Misfits, didn’t you recognize them? I recognized them right away. Their tales are told a lot in our tribe.”
“But now it’s time to sleep, even for you, Strider.”
Strider was sharpening his knives again.
“No, I’m fine, I’ll watch for strangers, in these capitol cities you can’t be cautious enough.”
Swift smiled. “I’ll watch to, you go to sleep.”
“Aye.” Vince said.
After a while sleeping, Swift heard something. He woke up Strider who already fell asleep.
“Some guard you are.” he said with a grin on his face.
“What? What time is it? Is it time to get up? Did mommy made breakfast already?” Strider said, still half asleep.
“No, idiot, I’ve heard something on the hallway.”
Suddenly they heard someone lock pick the door. The door went open and a Dark Forester entered. He probably thought everybody was asleep and wasn’t prepared for an attack. Suddenly a knife flew out of the shadows and into his ribs. He fell on the ground and didn’t move anymore.
“Why did you had to kill him?”
“I…I...did it for our own safety.”
“Now we can’t interrogate him anymore, I wanted to know why he wanted to kill us.”
As the night went, and dawn came there weren’t any difficulties.
“Aaah,” Draco yawned, “I slept great, how did you?”
“Nice, except for the assassin!”
“Assassin? What assassin?”
“Oh, nothing, just a Dark Forester who tried to kill me.” Swift said while putting on his black cloak.
“We shall go and investigate this, but first I need to do something.”
He sheathed his swords and stringed his bow. He put a strange amulet in his pocket, an amulet that looked like a Wolf Skull cut out a small bone hanging on a leather wire. Swift went outside in the freezing cold. It was snowing, again.
Why does is snow that much in this time of the year? he thought.
Then before him rises the Yellow Castle trough the mist. He walked inside and went to the far Eastern Wing.
“The Great Library.” he mumbled.
As he went to go inside, the guards stopped him.
“Who are you and what is your business here?”
“I am Swift of the Rogue Wolves, my business is my own.”
“Then we can’t let you through.”
“You can’t?” he smirked.
Then in a super fast move, Swift jumped over them and with great speed he searched for Luxus. It didn’t take long to find the Fellowship. He stopped running and then walked towards the Fellowship.
“You again?” Bjarn grunted.
“Yes, it’s me again, but hurry now the guards could be here any minute, Luxus come to me, don’t be afraid.”
Luxus slowly walked to Swift.
“Here.” Swift took the amulet out of his pocket, “this will remind you of me and it gives you the right to claim the leadership of my tribe once I’m dead, take good care of it, farewell, my young friend, I hope our paths cross again.”
Then Swift turned and ran away back to the inn. Reno, Aros, Bjarn, Sir Dractor, Anardan, Shainya and Voolmark looked at one another.
“That…” said Bjarn slowly, “Was weird.”
“Indeed.” agreed Sir Dractor.
Aros took the strange amulet from Luxus and examined it.
“This certainly looks like an ill omen.” he commented.
“I detect no evil from it.” said Voolmark, “It’s probably a clan symbol carried by leaders.”
“It appears to be a subdivision of Wolfpack.” continued Aros, “I think I saw something like this while traveling on Fell Isle years ago…”
“It is of no importance now,” said Bjarn sternly, “We are here to find the location of the Temple Of Lost Stars.”
“Right.”
They continued onward, searching for someone, a bookkeeper or librarian. At last they came across a large circular desk that appeared to be in the very center of the room. At the desk sat a hunched figure, draped in browns and tans. A quill scratched quietly.
“Excuse me?” queried Bjarn politely.
The person looked up and smiled. All of them were taken aback at how young the person was. He appeared no older than sixteen years of age. Pockets of pimples lined his face, and a stubby and short goatee barely covered his chin. His brown eyes were friendly, and looked through a thick pair of glasses.
“‘Sup?” he asked, setting his quill aside.
Bjarn cocked his head at the dialect.
“I am Bjarn, Leader of the Forestmen, and these are my companions Reno, Aros, and Luxus Regga, Voolmark Vaslegen, Shainya, Sir Aethelred Dractor, and Captain Anardan.”
“Cool. I’ve heard of some of you guys. I’m honored.”
The person stuck out a hand.
“I’m Hans Lentawl.”
“Are you the Head Archiver?” asked Shainya, glancing at the embossed plaque on the desk.
“Me? No way!” Hans laughed, “That’s my dad, Lee Lentawl. I’m the assistant in training. You’d be amazed what a pain in the megabloks it is to archive all this raw and un-translated paperwork, especially when you have to deal with the ‘O’ versus ‘OU’ battle.”
“Oh?”
Hans explained, “It’s nuts. Some factions like the Crusaders and Dragon Masters and Forestmen spell certain words with simply an ‘O’, like H-A-R-B-O-R. Others, like the Black Falcons and Classics, spell e’m H-A-R-B-O-U-R.”
“So which spelling does this library use?”
“Both! To keep everyone happy, I’ve gotta copy every megabloks text down twice with alternate spelling…”
Hans shrugged and smiled. “I’m getting off-topic. What are you guys looking’ for?”
Bjarn leaned close and said mysteriously, “Any information about the Temple Of Lost Stars.”
Hans laughed.
“Funny you should say that...some older guy came in a few days ago and asked for the same thing. In fact, I think he’s here now…”
Bjarn gripped the assistant’s arm. “An old man? With a monkey?”
Hans nodded. “Yeah. Dad was pretty put off by letting a monkey rummage about here, but that old guy just showed Dad some documents that must have had the seal of the Emperor or something, for Dad didn't complain anymore…”
“Where’s this man?” asked Bjarn sharply.
Hans glanced at a sheet of paper, “He was in ‘Folklore’ when I saw him last. That would be Section 8, Aisle 3, Row 11, Level 2...oh tyco, lemme just show you guys.”
As Hans stood and forged a path through endless bookshelves, Bjarn dropped back to Sir Dractor.
“Funny bloke, isn’t he?” asked Bjarn, indicating Hans.
“Aye...interesting chap…”
Meanwhile, Hans was chatting with Reno and Aros, who were upfront.
“Well, my dad’s a professor at the State Golden University, and he also works here when he’s not teaching. I’m really interesting in books and such, so when I turned thirteen Dad began to train me in the fine and sometimes dead dull art of Archiving.”
“Are you Eastern Royal?” asked Aros.
Hans snorted, “Heh, you’re like the thousandth person to ask that. No, I’m not from the Royal Knights, I was born in Ninjaria, though I’ve lived in LEGOland since I was one. My dad’s a Crusader and Mom’s a Western Knight’s Kingdomer. My sister is the only Classic native. I sound like a Royal because my teeth were all screwed up, twisted and such. Luckily some cleric fixed my teeth, but people still ask if I’m Royal…”
At last the party of nine came upon a small table laden with books. Sitting at the table was a bearded man, a ragged monkey perched on his shoulder. The man looked up and smiled.
“Ah, Bjarn, all of you, welcome! I’m glad to see you made it here in one piece...long time no see Reno, Aros, Luxus…”
He winked. The three brothers gaped and then laughed.
“Daner Pluto!”
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