“Oh my beautiful musty archives, how I have missed you,” Tim said with misty eyes.

He had snuck in, having long since been fired for his unauthorized absences, and was standing a few feet in the archives. The warm light from the doorway at his back mixed with the wan blue of his lantern which faded into the dark corridors between overflowing bookshelves. Tim set the tarnished silverwrought witchlight on the ground.

“Isn’t this perfect, Philbert?” Said Tim, as he pulled the heavy doors shut. A cold wind with a difficult to place scent from deeper in the archives rushed faster and faster through the crack between the doors, whistling until they sealed shut. Tim dusted his hands off and ran one through his disarrayed hair. “Not only does no one go down here due to various people disappearing, but it even has a disturbingly large number of overstuffed armchairs! I really don’t know why I didn’t think of staying here before.”

On his shoulder, a small prickle on his skin heralded Philbert climbing up from his pocket to Tim’s ear. “Tim. We have much work, work to do. I shall lead you to a place of rest. Be quick, quick.” The rat then jumped off his usual space on Tim’s shoulder and started running down the seemingly endless aisles.

“Hehe, I get to live here now,” Tim laughed joyously, forgetting his cares as he scooped up his lantern and ran yet again after his ratty friend whose tail was dragging a line in the dust.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

An hour and a half later, and much deeper in the archives: despite being fit from the long journey, Tim was moving much slower now. Just a few feet in front of him, Philbert impatiently tapped his little clawed feet, obviously annoyed about the pace, somehow not breathing any harder than he ever was, himself. If he was breathing…?

“Stop staring, Tim. Come come, there is not much further. We must not keep the king waiting, waiting for long.”

“Right. After you then, Philbert.”

As the two odd companions continued on, Tim couldn’t help but cast his gaze at his surroundings, the constant stacks of bookshelves that hardly seemed to change. Even under the strange shadows of his lantern, despite the strange intermittently placed armchairs and cold deep darkness to the air Tim felt the archive held a strange sort of charm.

“Hey Philbert, how big is this place?”

“As big as it needs to be, Tim,” Philbert said, trotting along.

Tim noticed his tail was no longer leaving tracks and the floor seemed cleaner. “See, that’s the thing. Wouldn’t that mean builders still come down here then? What if they find us?”

Philbert finally spared a glance backward, and with the closest a rat could get to a contemptuous sneer, simply responded with a “Tim, Tim. Builders aren’t needed. You should not worry, worry at all. No one shall find you here. Even those you work with lack the courage to explore.”

“Hey Philbert.”

“Yes Tim?”

“Great fucking job explaining absolutely nothing at all. You know, usually when people ask questions, they expect a decent answer instead of cryptic bullshit,” Tim spat.

“It matters not, not at all. All that matters is that we are here,” Philbert shot back as he stopped almost dead on the spot.

“What do you mea-, ohhhhhh,” Tim exhaled. “Fuck, man, I’m sorry for snapping at you. There was something like this here… you really came through buddy,” Tim whistled.

In front of him, the object of his amazement unfolded in the form of a singular room, complete with a small kitchen and a couch that had been added almost haphazardly at the end of the isle they were standing in. It was open on two sides and took up the space between two stacks, which had been replaced by walls.

“Is this some kind of break room or something? And is that couch just three armchairs glued together with their arms removed?” Tim questioned as he moved inside of the room to inspect the contents.

Beside him, Philbert moved with equal speed and jumped back onto his perch on Tim’s shoulder, his mouth opening to answer Tim’s questions with obvious amusement. “Yes, and yes. And, before you ask, this one does not know how this place came to be, only that this has been alone, alone for years.”

“Yeah, well, for being left alone for years, this ain’t half bad my friend.” Tim looked around. The sink next to the stove appeared to be in working order, though Tim couldn’t tell what color the water was. Everything seemed blue by the light of his lantern. Around the other side of the wall Tim found a small dark bathroom with modern plumbing he had only ever read about, and a shower!

Tim left the bathroom alone and took his lantern back to the main area. If he set it down on the center coffee table by the couch he could see the entire room, although very dimly. The stacks on the ends shone like blue teeth in the darkness, and Tim could see no further. It was strange there were no lights in this area, but he had yet to see a light in the entire library. Tim ignored it – it was nothing new, and besides, there was no one here besides himself and the rats. He turned away from them and opened the cabinets lining the wall.

There was food there. Snacks, root vegetables, flour, sugar, oil, basic cooking supplies… Tim shrugged – seemed reasonable someone would have stocked this place. And besides, these didn’t go bad, right?

In any case, Tim was tired and hungry. He took a tin of biscuits from the cabinet and threw himself on the couch. Philbert had been quietly watching Tim explore, perhaps resting, but he spoke now. “I shall be gone for a while to bring the King here, Tim.” The rat paused. “Oh, and Tim? There may be several books of… interest nearby,” Philbert said, then skittered out of the room.

Tim watched the rat disappear into the darkness between the stacks. He had fully intended to gorge himself and take a long, long nap, but his curiosity would not leave him be. He heaved himself out of the couch to investigate, scooping up the lantern behind him.

“Hmm. Seems to be a themed section,” he said as he set his lantern down by one of the ‘teeth’ bookshelves. “Ooh, here we go,” Tim exclaimed, “World War 1. That sounds familiar. Maybe one of the heroes mentioned it?” The name ‘World War 1’ sounded so familiar, yet he didn’t think it was of the history of his world, making it sound even more alluring. He ran his fingers across the spines in indecision, then crouched low to start at the bottom shelf. “Right. Ma always said to start at the beginning. So, I guess lets find out what the hero Iver says about something called ‘The Hague’.” Tim muttered as he read out the title and author, taking out the book. “This looks interesting,” he said, and he took the book and the lantern back to read from the comfort of the Frankenstein couch.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

An indeterminate amount of time later Philbert scurried back into the break room, accompanied by a cat-sized rat. At closer inspection it was somehow made up of multiple smaller rats contorting together into a somehow-cohesive shape. Behind them, a larger swarm of rats writhed and played at a respectful distance.

Tim looked up from his perch on the couch and shifted his feet away from the small pile of books that had accumulated near his feet.

“Hey Philbert, you weren’t kidding! This really is some good stuff! Did you know that in the world where the heroes come from, they had so many inventive ways to deal with people? They even made a helpful category listed ‘crimes against humanity’ and ‘war crimes’ to help me filter out the best ones!” Tim cheerfully said.

In response, Philbert only paused and gave Tim as close to a concerned look as a rat could give. Behind him, the rat king and his entourage spilled into the break room and settled into empty nooks and crannies.

“Well Philbert, I think I have an idea of what to do with that fucker Kevin. You guys mind helping me?”

Philbert’s head cocked up with curiosity and his tail hesitantly twitched to motion Tim to continue.

With a grin that made the rat cringe, Tim continued. “Okay. Hear me out, my ratty friend. Have you ever heard of mustard gas?”