I. Was. So. Bored.

When I first saw the library of the High University, I was overjoyed. It was much bigger than the one in Sky Hall, and all of its buildings were actually full of books. Thousands upon thousands of books, the beautiful, thick, leather-bound volumes of this world. A good chunk of them in Common. For the first time in my life, I had a lot of books on hand, written in a language I could read, and I also had as much free time as I wanted! One would think I was having a fabulous time. Right?!

Nothing could have been farther from the truth. The books were only available to the citizens of Golden Grove, and to the students of the university. No exceptions.

“All right,” I said. “That sounds reasonable. How do I become a student of the university then?”

“No problem, my dear fellow,” said Beldrak. “I will take care of it.”

That was three days ago.

We have delivered the apple successfully to a leading magistrate of the university. Her title was “rector,” and she was Beldrak's old teacher besides. The apple-business taken care of, I was led to the library, had the conversation I recited above, and that was the last time I have seen my two companions. Apparently now they were working hard in the Chiselled Tower, where a man called Morgan Gittings helped them to make magical tools from the remains of the dragon we have slain.

Rhodarr was even worse. The Dragonborn was deadly serious when he told us that we could always count on him when it came to drinking and whoring, and promptly drunk himself into the prison of Golden Grove. As I had no connections in the city, and saw no reason to pay the hefty fine for his ruffianism myself, he was going to stay there for a whole tenday too.

But, as Jim would have said, I was a big boy. When my friends ditched me, I did not despair but set out to explore my opportunities. First, since I could not count on Beldrak, I turned to a helpful librarian to ask what would it take for me to become a student of the university. She sent me to the appropriate officials, and it turned out that applying to the institution took about a quarter of an hour, but the admission itself required lengthy deliberation, and I would not become a student for at least two more tendays, if at all.

My hopes about the library crushed, I decided that I will get to know the city instead. Only an hour after this decision a petty thief tried to steal my purse as I was admiring the small forest from which Golden Grove got her name. The resulting commotion encompassed the colleagues of the thief and a few innocent bystanders. I only narrowly escaped being locked into a cell beside Rhodarr, and this episode together with the incessant rain put an end to my ambition to explore the city.

With the avenues of learning and sightseeing barred for me, I was resigned to pass the time with whoring and drinking as my esteemed teacher would have done. But most of the whores were ugly, and the few pretty ones cost an exorbitant sum of money. The price for drinking away my boredom was also prohibitive, and truth to be told, the national beverages of this cursed city tasted like piss.

Hence. I. Was. Bored.

The only glimpse of sunshine among these clouds was called Colanna Loramaer. She was the helpful librarian who directed me to the right administrators when I decided to try and become a student, and she suggested me spots to see when I set out to explore the city. She did not suggest brothels and taverns when I set out to explore those, but she might have, if only I had asked her before.

Right now, Lora, as I was instructed to call her, was staring intently into her book, and tried not to take notice of me, as I was sitting on the other side of the counter, and shot pleading glances in her direction. She hadn't turned a page for a few minutes now, which meant my strategy was working, and she was close to the breaking point.

“Fine!” she sighed in the end. “Fine! I will read aloud to you, but you better make it up for me later! Speaking so much dries out my throat.”

“Whatever you ask for, pearl of librarians!”

“And if anyone comes in, I will stop.”

“You are supposed to enforce the silence after all,” I agreed.

“So, will this book do?”

The title of her volume read “The Understanding of Volition in the Incrementalistic Scepticism”. It sounded awfully like the Greek philosophy books Decia Maior, the elder of my younger sisters, so much liked.

“Have you one maybe with a title that makes sense?” I asked meekly.

“Young human boys have always been my great weakness,” she grumbled, as she walked to the shelf behind her. “But don't think you can get away insulting my taste in books one more time! Is there a subject that is of particular interest to you?”

“Architecture, history and arcana.” I knew from Beldrak that the latter was the name of the discipline which encompassed the knowledge of spells and the laws of magic. I thought it would be a useful thing to study. Even if I could not cast spells like a wizard without a lot of practice, I could at least recognise them.

“Hm, how about this one? 'The Walls of Golden Grove and their History.' We can kill two birds with one stone.”

“Have you read it before?”

“I have been working in this room for fifteen years. I have read every book here.”

Fifteen years?! Lora didn't look older than me, but if she was working as a librarian for so long... These half-elves really do live thrice as long as regular humans? It's decided then, if I ever marry in this world, my wife will be an elf.

“And how was it?”

“Good introduction to the history of Golden Grove. Do you want it, or not?”

“I have every confidence in your taste in books. As long as I understand the title.”

“Cheeky,” she grimaced, then sat back, and opened the volume.

“If the reader has never been to Golden Grove, the sheer volume of her defences will be hard to picture. Nevertheless, I shall describe them as a start.”

“I have seen them though...”

“Hush! The outermost ring of defences is formed by the pegasi riders of the High University. They patrol the lands ruled by the city. The institution of the pegasi riders is at least three hundred years old, but our sources contradict each other whether the first pegasi were trained on the order of Tholl Rightiron (rector of the High University 367-420), or Odette Lamartine (mayor of Golden Grove 390-401). It is known that these two historical figures were at odds with each other, and both of their supporters claim...”

No one came into the room, so Lora read me for hours uninterrupted. I have come to know that the enormous city-walls were built after Golden Grove was sacked in the year of 291. That the moat around the walls was dug after the siege of 351. And that the Silver Gate was walled in after the treacherous Stanislaw Chagall opened it to the Margrave of Sheepsford in 428.

I found it interesting that the people of this land used numbers to keep track of the years instead of the names of the magistrates. But I also had to admit that it made a lot of sense. It was a much easier system. And in fact, most people at home also didn't bother to learn the whole Fasti Consulares. They identified the years instead by saying “it happened twenty-two years after the Gauls sacked Rome,” or “two years before the battle of Sentinum”.

Other than the exhaustive chronology of Golden Grove's sieges and occupations, there were meticulous drawings about the lay of the city and the walls. Also pictures about the size and shape of the stones used, descriptions about the method of building, the machines used, and the enchantments that were cast on the walls. I have never heard about a book like this before, it was so practical, and so very detailed.

Lora must have seen the awe on my face, because she smiled at me, as she closed the book.

“Is your curiosity satisfied, young man?”

“For today. Thank you for reading to me! This was a very instructive afternoon.”

“I know what it is like to sit in a library without being able to read,” she said. “Not that I have ever experienced it myself, but I can imagine it. As I am about to close for the night, you better get ready. I treated you, now I expect you to treat me!”

“As long as I don't have to drink this sour apple-juice you dare to call wine, you are my guest.”

“Arnold, have you ever been told that you were a bore?”

“Never by ladies,” I grinned. “At least not by ladies who had a good taste in men.”

She put out her tongue at me as she wrapped herself into her cloak.

“My favourite place is by the High Gate, on the top of the hill. One can see the Grove from there.”

“Sounds expensive.”

“Have I just heard a complaint?”

“Just thinking aloud. Would the scenery not be wasted on us, as it is night-time?”

“It might be wasted on you, but I happen to see just as well by starlight.”

“You too? Does everybody have a perfect night-vision but humans?”

“Take up your grievances to your gods!” She locked the door then hooked into my arm. “Or to your parents for not choosing their spouse more wisely.”