Robin ran his fingers over the parchment of the scroll. It was old, yellowed, and almost brittle to the touch. A small bit flaked off beneath his fingertip. Robin discreetly willed it into his storage space. It’d come in handy later.

He’d determined that he needed a few things if he was going to pull this off. Materials for the physical aspect of the forgery. Ruprecht would be very helpful there. Several versions of the text in question. Vance had helpfully shown him how to find a few in the library. Thankfully not every copy was kept under the lock and key of the Head Librarian’s watchful eye. All told, he had access to most of what he needed to create the thing.

Selling the idea of the copy, that would be harder, but fortunately he had a skill set primed to do just that, and some ideas to keep his fingers unnoticed in turning the rumour mill. What he was most nervous about, however, were the skills required to craft the forgery.

That was why he was sitting here in the library, staring absently off into mid-air. Other patrons might mistake it for introspection or uffish thought, but Robin was actually carefully picking his way through the the skill—proficiency—list options and comparing things to the amount of experience he currently had available.

ROBIN PARKER Heritage: Shadeling, Paragon Profession: Bard Tier: 1 (Effective Level: 5) Spell Points: 6 Bardsong: 5 uses Experience: 7350 Properties

Free Ranks Available: 1 Physical Mental Social Strength: 11 Intelligence: 17 Charisma: 15 Dexterity: 14 Cunning: 21 Manipulation: 13 Fortitude: 11 Resilience: 14 Poise: 16 Proficiencies

Free Ranks Available: 1 Physical (9/9) Mental (9/9) Social (9/9) Athletics: 3 Arcane Lore: 5 Animism: 2 Brawl: 3 Bureaucracy: 1 Deception: 8 Dodge: 6 Concentration: 7 Empathy: 5 Melee Combat: 5 Crafting: 5 Expression: 7 Pilot: 4 Healing: 4 Gossip: 6 Ranged Combat: 7 Insight: 5 Intimidation: 5 Sleight of Hand: 6 Learning: 5 Persuasion: 6 Stealth: 6 Natural Wisdom: 3 Socialise: 7 Survival: 3 Perception: 7 Streetwise: 6 Peculiarities Blessing of Rhyth Tongue of the Fallen Tower Mark of the Trickster Chronicle of Infinite Visions Mask of Myriad Faces Initiate of the Craft Illusion Focus Perks

Wayfaring Stranger Shard of the Shattered Manymind Mark of Fairy's Favour Spells

Cantrips* (*no SP cost)

Tier 1 (1SP each)

Tier 2 (3SP each) Lesser Phantasm* Visual Phantasm* Assume Quality (Special) Cutting Words* Healing Note Legerdemain* Whispers from Beyond Lesser Nightmare Curse* Invisible Servant Lesser Witchbolt* Familiar Bond Minor Repair* Lesser Charm*

He’d been keeping his Craft investment fairly high. It had come in handy enough so far, and the experience repairing the tavern had only reinforced that that had been the correct decision, but he could still boost it a bit with experience.

Robin went ahead and did so.

A skilled eye like the Head Librarian’s wouldn’t be easy to fool. He’d need every edge he could muster. Robin considered the Properties section of his character sheet. His Cunning would certainly come into play at some stage, though Dexterity would likely be important as well. He’d have to budget in enough magical energies to make proper use of [Assume Quality] to give himself a boost there.

The problem was there wasn’t an explicit crafting system. There was no way to be sure how he could best leverage his unique abilities to gain the best shot at fooling the Head Librarian. Oh, he could make inferences based off of descriptions for some of his stats and several of the peculiarity abilities he’d read through over the past few weeks. It was enough to give him an idea of the right direction.

It wasn’t a guarantee, though.

Which is where his fallback option came in. If the forgery was uncovered, well, he’d just say he recovered the translation as part of the treasure haul retrieved from Ruprecht’s depths. There was enough false treasure floating about to make that plausible, as well as his version of events, spreading even more rapidly now that he’d performed it the other evening for Vance (and to get Clara off his back).

Plausible deniability was a wonderful thing.

Robin was just closing out of his interface when a familiar voice drifted to his ears and made his blood flare with angry static.

‘Have you seen a lanky guy around here? Calls himself Marq?’

It was one of the Broken Knucklebones. Terlene, Robin thought she was called. What was anyone thinking, sending her here? Better to loose a bull in a porcelain shop.

Though it could be worse. It could be Clara. Robins shuddered to think of the sort of trouble she would cause here.

Best head this off before Terlene drew any more attention to him.

‘I’m right here,’ he said softly as he stepped out from the stacks.

A slim trainee librarian shot him a sour glance as she scurried away from the massive gangster looming amidst the bookshelves. Terlene turned to Robin, a broad and cheerful smile on her face.

‘Glad to find you! Let’s go!’

‘Go?’ Robin blinked. ‘Go where?’

‘Dag wants to see you.’ Terlene paused to look wistfully at the books around her. ‘I wish we had time to stay and browse for a bit.’

‘Do you have a favourite section?’ Robin asked the question to draw her out a bit. He’d made an assumption based on her appearance, and it sounded like he’d been way off the mark. Something to remedy at once.

Making the wrong assumptions about a potential enemy could be lethal.

‘Poetry,’ Terlene said, with no hesitation. ‘I prefer the long form ballads of the Devanaan Era, but I’ve read through all the ones here in the library so many times I have them memorised. It’s not as fun when all the surprise is gone.’

Robin made a mental note to check out that particular section soon. Terlene liked ballads, he was a bard, there might be some common ground here he could work with.

‘How long have you had a library membership?’

‘Five years,’ Terlene replied promptly. ‘I was shaking down this merchant—I mean, picking him up after someone knocked him to the ground a few too many times—and he gave me his membership token. It hasn’t run out yet.’

Terlene looked incredibly pleased with that.

The Great Library of Noviel offered some access free to all, but much of its stacks and many of its bibliographic treasures were only accessible if you had a certain level of pass token, most of which carried price tags from the moderate to the eye-searingly expensive. Robin only had basic access himself.

They had reached the edge of the stacks and were about to pass into the foyer when Robin paused.

‘Where was it Dag wanted to meet again?’

‘The Violet Street flop,’ Terlene answered.

Robin wasn’t so sure about that. Unfamiliar territory, almost certainly outnumbered, after Clara likely got it in her head that he might be hiding treasure somewhere? No. No thank you, fam.

‘That’s not going to work for me,’ he said, stopping while still within the stacks. If he was lucky, Terlene’s unexpected love of the library would keep her from attacking him and making a fuss. If not, well, at least he could try dodging through the stacks.

Robin’s eyes flashed to the surroundings, looking to see who else might be nearby. Luck was against him, however. There weren’t any other patrons in this section of the library at present, and the only librarian he had seen had vanished after giving him the stink eye, so no help was likely forthcoming from that quarter either.

‘But Dag said you have to come.’

‘He can come meet me at the tavern, like usual,’ Robin countered.

The bard shifted, glancing around Terlene as best he could to see if there was anyone past her, in the lobby. Anyone who might be near enough to come if he needed to scream bloody murder.

‘Are we going to have a problem here, bard?’ Terlene’s light and cheerful demeanour suddenly went cold and hard as mountain stone.

Robin took an involuntary step back. The edge in Terlene’s eyes was chilling. His throat was suddenly dry.

Bloody murder indeed.

‘We don’t have to,’ he said. ‘You can just tell Dag to meet me at the tavern. I can talk to him there.’

Terlene raised a hand toward him, steel in her eyes.

‘I can make you—’

‘Careful,’ Robin said softly, interrupting the gangster. ‘You don’t really want to cause any trouble here in the library, do you? That might get your token revoked.’

Terlene’s stony facade cracked at that. She clearly hadn’t considered the possibility. Robin watched as warring impulses fought in the gangster’s frame.

Her hand clenched and she dropped her arm back to her side.

Robin felt an infinitesimal breath of relief escape his lungs. He didn’t let his relief show on his face, however.

‘You’re not very nice, are you?’

‘Me?’ Robin blinked. ‘I’m think I’m very nice. I don’t go around threatening people with pointy objects like Clara does, and I don’t make people afraid of me. That I know of anyway. And I tell a pretty good story and sing some really great songs, so I think that’s pretty nice.’

‘You’re not being very nice to me,’ Terlene clarified, her gaze taking on a bit of its former stoniness.

‘You’re not giving me a choice,’ Robin countered. ‘That’s not really a very nice thing to do either. So maybe we’re even.’

Terlene glared at him, but Robin could tell she was considering his words. The bard reached slowly behind him until he felt the cool varnish of the nearest bookshelf beneath his fingertips. He could dart around it and down the aisle if he needed too.

‘But Dag is protecting you. It’s for your own good.’

Yeah, no. We’re not doing that.

‘If Dag is protecting me, it’s because I pay him, and if I’m the one paying, I’m the customer, and really, my needs and convenience should count at least as much as his. If not more.’

Terlene kept framing things as if she didn’t engage in highly suspect and unlawful practices, so he might as well press her with that logic.

No one ever wanted to think they were the bad guy.

Terlene obviously wasn’t stupid. She might be a bit earnest, but that could just be a defence mechanism. The world was often horrible. Deliberately ignoring that fact to get through the day was just how some people coped with it all.

Robin didn’t really want to turn that against her. All things considered, she was the best of the Knucklebones. At least she was the one he minded interacting with least.

‘I’ll lay out a nice spread at the tavern. You can all stop by. There’ll be a bit to eat and some drinks on the house. Really, it’ll be a better option all around.’ Robin pulled a fake coin from his storage and began flipping it casually in the air.

Terlene’s eyes snapped to the coin, watching it as it glittered and spun in the light.

‘Dag won’t like it,’ she said. ‘Clara told him you might be trouble. She wanted to come with me.’

‘I don’t think Clara has the right temperament to really appreciate the library,’ Robin said.

A snort of laughter from Terlene told him she agreed.

‘Tell you what,’ he said, ‘what’s your favourite Devanaan Era ballad? I’ll see if I can find a copy here and memorise it before I leave for the evening. I can perform it tonight. I mean, Dag wouldn’t want me to have to cancel one of my special evenings. There’d be a lot less coin for everyone if that happened, and if I have to go all the way to the Violet Street flop, well, I probably won’t be back in time and then there’s no party and no money for anyone. Dag wouldn’t want that, would he?’

‘No,’ Terlene agreed. ‘Dag likes it when we get a steady supply of coin.’ She paused. ‘Any ballad? Even the Lay of Phanson and Feondaré?’

‘Even that one,’ Robin promised recklessly.

He’d sing her the Chicken Dance all night if it kept her happy and got him out of walking into a Knucklebones flop.

‘I suppose you’re making sense,’ Terlene said. After a moment she added gruffly, ‘and offering to sing is a nice thing to do. I’ve never heard any of the ballads actually performed.’

‘It’ll be a whole new way to experience it,’ Robin assured her. ‘So I’ll see you and the others at the tavern tonight? Regular time?’

Terlene hesitated, but eventually nodded.

‘See you then.’

Then she vanished, moving distressingly quietly for someone of her size.

Robin leaned back against the bookshelf, grateful for the support. He didn’t allow himself to linger long, however. He had a busy night ahead of him.

And before it started, he had a ballad to learn.