Aya sighed and realized she needed a new strategy. Not even a full scroll into the task and she knew it wouldn’t work. Henry had simply done too much damage and there was no way to undo it. She rubbed her eyes in resignation, then she looked at the cramped shelves around her. Her progress was visible and had already taken some of the strain out of the overfilled room, but there was definitely still room to hide a couple dozen damaged scrolls.

A tired smile ghosted over her face as she walked over to the ladder. It would be simpler to pull off with easy access to the high shelves. She pushed limply at the ladder, fully expecting it not to budge, but it did. It screeched along with an ear-piercing, rusty howl. In her excitement to get it moving and set her plan into action, she almost didn’t notice the splotches of blood along the track.

Kneeling, she dabbed a finger at the substance, needing to make sure she was really seeing right. For once, the chicken’s unfortunate existence had worked in her benefit, but she was too afraid to celebrate anything just yet. It seem that each time she took a step forward, the game would push her back two. Picking up a handful of Henry’s massacred scrolls, Aya headed up the ladder. She had to make sure it wasn’t going to happen this time, or - she gritted her teeth - any other time.

She hid dozens of soiled scrolls between and behind the thousands of intact ones. Her conscience suffered throughout the whole ordeal, but it wasn’t like she had much of a choice in the matter. In less than five minutes, it was done. Aya walked to the entrance to scrutinize her work. Relief and satisfaction washed over her when she couldn’t spot them from the distance, especially when not actively looking for them.

Her work was far from over though, and she headed back to the workstation, already dreading the increasingly-uncomfortable chair. In her opinion, the wooden thing was getting far too intimate with her backside. She couldn’t wait to sever the relationship, but for now, she had work to do. After grabbing a random stack of unbloodied and untarnished scrolls, she set to work with a vehemence only known to procrastinators and over-achievers.

Soon, she was back in the rhythm of things, still using her Scribe skill when able. The hidden scrolls festered in the back of her mind but she comforted herself with the fact that she was a prisoner. This behavior was expected of her kind. It was part of the contract, so to speak. It was not her fault if they didn’t read the fine print. She scoffed. There was nothing fine about the glaring label hovering over her head.

“Yep, definitely not my fault…”

The sad thing was, it really wasn’t her fault, but the longer she spent living as a convict, the more she found herself actually behaving like one. It was a classic catch-22. They put her in jail to supposedly rehabilitate her, to get rid of her ‘criminal aspect’, but the only way to survive in jail was to become a criminal. Saints didn’t survive in hell.

Aya was still thinking along these lines when half an hour simply vanished. She set herself a timer that glared at her in bold red numbers. Anything to keep instilling the need for speed. Her notebook had been abandoned long ago. There simply was no time and in the end, its existence might be the only thing keeping her in the library. They thought she was good, but they had no idea how much work she really could get done.

At least that is what she told herself for another half hour. Nervous sweat accumulated on the nape of her neck, creating an uncomfortable mugginess that hovered over her. The moment her timer dropped below an hour, Aya knew she needed a new strategy. Continuing at the rate she was at would only give her about half of her usual transcriptions and relying on Aizan’s good intentions was simply out of the question.

She considered arguing her way out of it. Detailed scrolls always took longer and, if she could use her scribe skill to transcribe enough of them, they might believe her. The timer blinked angrily, reminding her it wouldn’t be enough. Her fingers began to tremble slightly when she reached out for another pile of scrolls. It wasn’t like they could see the detail from the outside anyway. The chances of them taking her word for it were slim to none.

Her thoughts echoed in her mind and she stilled, cogs and wheels turning. She ran back to the shelves. It was a quick run of two steps. She had to see if it would even be possible. It was impossible to tell what a scroll would be like from the outside. Certain factors like scroll binding, paper quality and type could be indicative, but it wasn’t an exact science. Aya had learned to instinctively sort through the scrolls in the same way she used to sort through people at the register.

The scrolls were mostly old, but every here and there Aya spotted a whiter scroll. She retrieved a couple and held them next to one of her finished products. The difference was visible, but not enough for her to declare it unfeasible. She discarded one, deciding it was too dark and went on the search for more. It took longer than expected to find ‘new-looking’ scrolls in the midst of the dilapidated collection, but four minutes later she had accumulated thirteen scrolls. About three hours worth of work.

At least, that is how long it would take if every single scroll extremely detailed, she forgot to use her scribe skill every now and also took extremely detailed copies in her notebook. With the scrolls she had already transcribed, she had a total of five hours accounted for. In the remaining fifty-five minutes she could optimistically push through another two hours worth. That left her with a whole unaccounted hour.

Aya piled her scrolls strategically, mixing and matching them so that her subterfuge would not be obvious. There was a good layer on top that was ‘real’, a few scattered in the middle and a moderate base. People rarely took the effort to check beyond the surface. She’d worked in the service industry; she would know. The base had been added as insurance. She had no idea what they did with the scrolls after they took them away, but if they sorted through them, the bottom scrolls might buy her some time. After all, LIFO.

Aya chose the scrolls to ‘match’ their ‘transcriptions’ by apparent age. She looked for older scrolls, hoping the fakes would look newer in comparison. She was happy with the result but knew it wouldn’t be enough. Unwilling to spend any more time looking for scrolls, she headed back to the workstation. ‘New-looking’ scrolls were rare and she had already gathered the easily visible ones. To find any more, she would have to scrounge through them with no certainty of return on investment.

She cranked out transcripts as fast as she could, hoping for… anything that would get her out of the mess really. Obviously, there wasn’t a miracle, though her scribe skill did profit from her increasingly rushed use of it. The skill thrived on diversity, and until then, Aya had been sticking to a routine, a transcription rut.

With a little less than ten minutes left to go, Aya knew for sure she was doomed. There just wasn’t enough time. An hour’s worth of missing work was too much to cover, especially with her conservative margin of predictions for the seven that she did have.

As it was, she might as well fill the pile with total blanks, so it would at least look sufficient. Her hand stilled. Why not? Keeping one eye on the timer and the other on the door, she rose to carry out her plan. She had never paid attention to how punctual Era librarians were.

When all was done, her pile of ‘complete’ scrolls was just as big as the one from her previous session. She cocked her head to the right - maybe even a bit bigger. She took almost half of the blank scrolls out of the mix. The pile was smaller, but big enough she wasn’t too worried the difference would be an issue.

She breathed more easily, but not enough to slow her pace. By the time the librarian arrived, she had finished four more transcriptions and was well on her way with the fifth. Forcing herself to breathe calmly, she continued working, even as the librarian entered. She had forgotten to consider which librarian would come, but was happy to see the same junior as last time. Anyone would have been better than Aizan but at least this one was predisposed to think the shelf with the carefully arranged pile was the one where she stored her finished transcripts.

Aya tensed when he walked toward her, but then he laid a small wooden tray on the corner of her workspace.

“This is for you,” he said. “Please be mindful of the crumbs.” His words were polite but his expression, demeanor and tone dripped with derision.

Aya kept her face blank and nodded in response before getting back to work. She watched him from the corner of her eye as he looked around suspiciously and Aya wondered if he knew something.

“Where is the LayHen?” he asked.

“The…OH!” she had completely forgotten about the damn bird.

She was looking around when the librarian said, “Ah. Good. It is a disgrace to treat a creature that is still so strongly linked to the Forgotten Realm like that.”

“Forgotten Realm?” she asked.

“You don’t know wh— Bah. Outworlders… “ He stepped toward the shelf and his back was to her, but she could still hear the disdain in his voice when he said, “It’s a disgrace to let you into the sacred halls of knowledge when you know and care for nothing.”

“Is it related to the Forgotten Knowledge?” she asked.

He swiveled before she even finished the question.

“How do you know about that?” he demanded.

She was trying to distract him, but she also didn’t like the way he was treating her. Aya resumed her work while still talking to him, continuing her charade of nonchalance.

“Oh it’s just something I heard once.”

“Where?” he asked, clearly agitated.

She paused as if in thought, but really just enjoying the moment.

“You know,” she said finally, “I really don’t remember.” And then got back to work.

“You don— Who is your gatekeeper? You Outworlders have a stronger connection to the Forgotten… did he say something? Or is it a she?” he demanded, losing himself.

Aya hid her surprise at his reaction. For the first time, she considered bringing out her scroll and simply telling them the truth. She might get some answers that way.

“Tell me now, you filthy thief!” he raged.

Aya jerked in surprise more than fear. It gave way to irritation and ebbed into resolve. If her even knowing that there was such a thing as Forgotten knowledge agitated the librarian this much, then a piece of the real thing had to be worth a fortune. Not that she had a clue what the real thing was, but she wasn’t about to hand it over to the seething wanna-be librarian.

“I would if I could,” she said with a shrug.

He glared at her and looked like he was about to shout some insults at her again, but then he balled his fists and walked back to the shelf. Taking his back as a sign the conversation was over, Aya got back to work herself though by this point she was mostly pretending. She kept an eye on him and when he started going through the scrolls, she was thankful for her arrangement. She didn’t know his process or if he even had a process. She hadn’t stayed long enough to see before.

Each time he picked up a scroll with its matching transcription she prayed it was authentic. Minutes and what seemed like hundreds of scrolls later he still hadn’t come across a fake. It was beginning to look like he would check every single scroll then and there. Her heart was thumping against her rib-cage and the sweat was running down her back in what seemed like torrents. She wasn’t paying any more attention to her pretend-work but kept moving the quill so the scribbling sound continued. It roared in her ears.

Part of her mind wondered how the game managed to simulate adrenaline so well while the other watched, as if in slow motion, the librarian picked up a scroll she knew was a blank. She remembered carefully positioning it there only minutes before. Minutes that seemed like hours.

Her mouth was dry and her hands felt clammy, and although her hand still moved, she felt paralyzed.

“Bwaaaaaaaaaak!” Henry chose that moment to make his presence known.

It jarred both of them out of the moment, breaking the rhythm of their actions enough for her mind to clear. Still holding the scroll, the librarian was in the process of unfastening it when it hit her that it was her last chance of carrying out her plan, if she had one.

She didn’t, but the words burst out of her mouth anyway.

“Oh, wait!” she said, faking sudden insight. “I think I remember now!”

He turned to her with boredom anchored in his eyes but it soon gave way to vaulting anticipation.

“At the prison there was this… man,” she said and a sudden image flashed before her eyes. “This old man. He was saying something about Forgotten Knowledge… Or maybe it was how he was forgetting knowledge… I don’t know…” she added in as a precaution, lest he blame her for leading her into a dead end.

“Who was he? What did he look like?” he asked, lowering the dreaded scroll.

“Just an old guy. Greasy Hair. Ragged clothes,” she said watching his expression.

She could tell he was excited, jittery even, but it looked like it wasn’t going to be enough to defeat his sense of obligation.

“I think he was in for drunken disorderliness,” she prodded, hoping the sentence of drunken disorderliness was known to all in Durrenheim.

His eyes furrowed in concentration as he considered her words.

“Wait, when did you say this was? This morning?”

Aya nodded.

“Then he’s going to be released soon!” he looked up at the window to confirm his suspicions with the dimming light.

Aya shrugged. She’d rolled the snowball enough; now, she could only watch. Caring would be suspicious, but the junior librarian didn’t look at all concerned with her, or her scrolls for that matter. In fact, it looked like he wanted to abandon them entirely.

“I’ve got to… Now…” he muttered to himself as he scrambled about to haphazardly secure her oh-so-carefully-erected pile . In less than a minute, he was walking out the door. She followed him with her eyes, still not allowing herself to celebrate, or get distracted. After the librarian’s display, the contents of the glowing scroll beckoned to her more than ever.

A scroll slipped from its tenuous position, plopping flatly to the ground. The librarian groaned and looked like he was going to set his whole pile back down again. Aya jumped into action, and not only repositioned the scroll, but helped him secure a couple others. He nodded in appreciation, the first positive interaction they had shared.

“And could you—” he nodded to the door.

“Yea, sure.”

“And…” he looked uncertain. “Let’s keep this between us, okay?”

She feigned a slightly surprised, slightly worried look, but nodded.

“Oh—” he interrupted when she started to close the door. “One last thing…”

Her heart skipped a beat.

“Could you reach in and grab…” he said, turning sideways to lift his left hip in her direction. “My keys?”

She gave him a questioning look, but complied.

“Just lock yourself in and don’t leave the room. I’ll come for you in the next meal time…” he said as he started to walk down the hall. “The Senior will probably check to make sure it’’s locked and I’m kinda pressed for time…”

She nodded and he turned away, hurrying his steps.

As she closed the door and did as directed, she wondered in the man’s sudden change in attitude. The lock clicked in place before she even noticed a slurry of notifications. One of them explained his immediate attitude change, she had gained a bunch of reputation points. Apparently giving him information he wanted and picking up a scroll were enough to win him over.

The NPCs were so realistic and human-like most of the time that she often forgot about the game aspect of things. But it looked like game mechanics and human realism did not always overlap. She, on the other hand, was actually human and it gave her great satisfaction to know the scroll she had picked up was blank.

Aya turned to her workstation and grinned at the key in her hand. She didn’t plan on leaving but it meant she would have eight uninterrupted hours to work with. Time to see if she could figure out why the junior librarian had just run out like his robes were on fire. Some of it would have to be spent on transcription work, but that could be done later. She smiled at the key; it wasn’t like he could check on her until the next meal time anyway. Henry squawked in a corner and she beamed at him, too.

P.S.: Your Manipulation Tree Thrives!