The afternoon was beginning to fade when Saphryn stepped out of the magistrate's office. The streets were still as crowded as they had been hours earlier, though the bustle of the marketplace was slowly dying down. Some merchants were packing away their stalls while artisans gradually closed the doors of their workshops. He had nowhere he needed to be. Without any particular destination in mind, he wandered through the heart of the city. After passing through several streets, he came upon a building unlike the others. It was not remarkable for its size, but for the silence that surrounded it. Carved into the stone arch above the entrance were the words: Valdoren Public Library Saphryn stood for a few moments, studying the inscription before stepping inside. The air carried the scent of parchment, leather, and aged wood. Bookshelves lined nearly every wall, and about a dozen people sat reading in complete silence. An elderly man with snow-white hair looked up from behind a desk. "Good afternoon." "Good afternoon." "Looking for a particular book?" "History." The old man smiled. "That's still rather broad." "Then... history of the ancient races." The librarian took a moment before replying. "Follow me." They walked through long aisles until they reached a far quieter section. The old man gestured toward several shelves. "Here you'll find texts on the ancient human kingdoms, the elves, and the dwarves. Farther back are the records on vampires, though most of them were written by humans." Saphryn slowly scanned the titles. Many looked more like propaganda than history. The Corruption of Blood. Beasts in Human Form. How to Recognize a Vampire. The librarian let out a quiet chuckle. "Don't put too much faith in those." Saphryn looked at him. "Why?" "Because they were written by people who had never seen a vampire." The answer caught his interest. "And have you?" The old man remained silent for a few seconds before answering. "Once." Saphryn waited. "It was more than forty years ago. I was young then, traveling with a merchant caravan. One night we crossed paths with a vampire noble." "What happened?" "Nothing." Saphryn regarded him with curiosity. The old man smiled. "That's the remarkable part. He watched us for a few moments, gave us a slight nod... and continued on his way. No one died that night." "So not all of them are the same." "Neither are people." The old man adjusted one of the books on the shelf. "That doesn't make them harmless. If a vampire decides to kill, very few people can stop one." Saphryn nodded. "I imagined as much." As the librarian returned to his desk, Saphryn reached for one of the oldest books on the shelf. He wasn't trying to confirm what he already knew. He was searching for what he didn't. He turned several pages. Bloodlines. Wars. Territories. Broken treaties. The names of ancient vampire families. But there was very little about the origin of their race. As though entire centuries of history had been torn away. He was about to return the book when a folded sheet slipped from between its pages. It did not belong to the manuscript. It was far more recent. Carefully, he unfolded it. Only a single sentence had been written in elegant handwriting. "History always remembers the victors. Seek the books no one wishes to preserve." Saphryn studied the note for a moment. There was no signature. No seal. No other clue. He placed it back between the pages and returned to the librarian's desk. "Excuse me." The old man looked up. "Yes?" Saphryn laid the book on the desk and opened it to the page where he had found the note. "Do you know who might have left this?" The librarian examined the paper. A slight frown crossed his face. "No." He read the sentence a second time. "But... it wasn't here the last time I organized these shelves." Saphryn remained silent. The old man looked back at him. "It seems someone expected another person to find this message." "So it would seem." At that moment, the bells of the city rang out, announcing the end of the day. Saphryn left the library with the words of the note still lingering in his thoughts. He didn't know who had written it. Nor whom it had been meant for. But for the first time since arriving in Valdoren, he had the feeling that someone else was searching for answers much like his own. --- By the time Saphryn left the library, the sky had turned shades of amber and gold. The city was still alive, though the marketplace had grown quieter and many shops were beginning to close. He slipped his hands into the sleeves of his coat as he walked unhurriedly along a cobbled street. The note he had found still occupied his thoughts. "Seek the books no one wishes to preserve." It did not seem like a sentence written at random. As he turned a corner, the clash of steel caught his attention. In a small open courtyard beside the Mercenaries' Guild, several men and women were training under the watchful eye of an instructor. Some practiced with sword and shield. Others fired arrows at wooden targets. A group of mages worked on exercises to improve their control over mana. Saphryn paused to watch. Not because he was interested in their techniques. He wanted to understand how the guild operated. "You're not from around here, are you?" The voice belonged to a woman who had just stepped out of the guild's main building. A longsword hung at her waist, and she wore light leather armor reinforced with metal plates. A silver guild insignia rested on her left shoulder. Her dark hair was tied into a braid, and she looked no older than twenty-five. Saphryn turned toward her. "No. I arrived yesterday." She nodded. "I thought so. I know most of Valdoren's mercenaries, but I've never seen you before." "I'm not a mercenary." She raised an eyebrow. "Then why are you watching us train?" Saphryn looked back toward the courtyard. "I was curious." A faint smile crossed her face. "That's an unexpectedly honest answer." For a few moments they watched the mercenaries in silence. One of the apprentices mistimed a swing and ended up sprawled on the ground, drawing laughter from the others. The woman spoke again. "I'm Elena." "Saphryn." The name seemed to stir a memory. "Wait... are you the traveler who defeated a Garm without belonging to the guild?" "So people have been saying." She laughed softly. "So it's true." Just then, a young apprentice came running out of the building. "Miss Elena! The Guildmaster is looking for you!" "I'll be there in a moment." The boy hurried back inside. Elena looked at Saphryn once more. "If you're staying in Valdoren for a few days, you'll probably end up visiting the guild." "Perhaps." "Even if you have no intention of becoming a mercenary, people here like getting to know skilled swordsmen." Saphryn gave a slight nod. "I'll keep that in mind." Elena smiled before heading back toward the building. Saphryn resumed his walk. He had gone no more than fifty meters when an old man sweeping the entrance to a small bookshop looked up as he passed. His eyes rested on Saphryn's face for several seconds. Then on his sword. And finally on his calm expression. The old man frowned ever so slightly. As though he were trying to remember something he had forgotten many years ago. Unaware of the gaze upon him, Saphryn continued on his way. But the old man remained standing there until the figure in the blue coat disappeared into the crowd.

The Library of Valdoren