Autumn 28, 513 AV The room was so thick with dirt and muck it hung in the air. Most of the Dawn Tower's aged, forgotten classrooms were like that, abandoned as new establishments and refurbishments drew the attention of many a student and professor, leaving the oldest rooms of the old dimly lit achieves, a filthy reminder of the days when personal magic was not so tightly controlled, and advancements in world magic limited. The whole wall infront of her were bookshelves, three grand things filled to the brim. Desks were plentiful, with a string of cupboards towards the back – at least they had a dust cover.
Arysana's nose twitched, and her body convulsed as she gave a violent cough and sneeze, then another, and another. Tears prickled her eyes, and she turned from room and made a break for the door, swinging it open in a single swift movement. "Gods," she wheezed, still struggling for breath. "Does that blighted man want to kill me?" She glared at the room from the safety of the hallway, before shooting a look up and down its rather dark lengths, sections of bleak shadows broken up frequently by dusty stained-glass windows. "Gods damn it, I'm a PA, not a bloody maid," she groaned, struck with the urge to do anything but what she was tasked with.
Her gaze slipped to the right, finding that there was little to see; the hallway continued on some before it reached an aged door, with several other of such doors leading to what were most likely now rooms for storage, the wall behind her dotted with grand stained glass windows, musky and filthy as all else in the sorry place. To her left the hallway continued on some enormous expanse, rounding as it went onwards to what could only be assumed to be more hallway. She couldn't recall what floor she was on, nor did she particularly care. All she knew was that when the receptionist greeted her that morning, she was given a list of cleaning instructions, led up gods-know how many stairs, and left in a room so dirty, the grime could blacken the lungs of a hundred beasts.
Her eyes darted about the place, finally finding herself adjusted to the level of light, and found the place to be strangely beautiful. The hallways carried the same décor and, among the dust and grime, the same air and atmosphere as the other places within the tower, making it clear that the Dawn Tower kept tight to at least some traditions. There were mirrors all about, although none as expertly positioned as those on the other levels, or even in the eastern wing of Tower's Respite. Some reflected from one to another, making best use of the morning light, others acted as spot lights, framing to the odd obscure sculpture or bright mosaic. She half wondered what warranted the little section to become so neglected, noting that at least the floors were swept and doorhandles polished, with the stone worn most at the doors of the other close by rooms, hinting that traffic was somewhat regular, but perhaps only staff.
"It’s such a shame," she murmured, feeling the need to break the silence that had settled. She shoved her hands into her pockets, suddenly bent on bringing order to the chaos present, and fished out a cloth tie. "Alright," she began, tying her mass of copper hair back. "If Armitican is going to pose this like a challenge, then I've no choice but to accept it." Recalling the contents of the almost calligraphic note, she ordered her list of demands in a way that seemed logical - to her, at least. ‘Empty and dump books, cleanout shelves and cupboards, then sweep and mop the floor. Armitican has already claimed and removed what he want (apparently), and no other member of the staff seemed all that interested in picking through the debris for a token or two.’
She tugged her shirt up closer to her mouth, keeping it as a dust guard as she re-entered the room, the door remaining firmly open that time around. She kept to her word, and moved most immediately the largest of the three grand book cases, taking aback momentarily by their sheer size. ‘I know that these books are supposed to be old and unwanted, but surely there is a thing or two here that are salvageable.’ She tried to shake her mind from their thoughts, finding that acting what she was thinking would classified as theft. ‘But they have been thrown out, right? So it isn’t like the Tower is going to particularly miss anything here…’ She left her thought hang, and mulled over it as removed book after book from the case, dividing them by their legibility on one of the larger wooden desks – something that seemed to have belonged to a professor, once upon a time.
As she went on, she noticed several patterns. Everything was neatly categorised, first by genre and then by author, with places wherein a few books, if not an entire sections, were missing – a clean hole left with only the slightest settlings of dust. Quickly it was apparent that Armitican must have already collected anything of use, with the pile of books able to be read nothing of use – the odd, poorly written student journal, and other cheap copies. She was slightly disappointed with the discovery, and was taken aback by the thought that perhaps she was genuinely considering theft. She pressed on with her work, pulling her shirt up higher as the dust flown into the air began to increase with every shelf emptied.
“Excuse me?” Called a voice, so sudden that Sana felt goose flesh ripple all over her body.
She turned and glanced at the door, and older woman with neat hair and an overwhelmed gaze standing by the door. “Yes?” Her voice was coarse; she hadn’t thought to clear it.
“Would you like me to fetch you some supplies? I mean, it’s the least I can do – especially since you offered to take care of this place all by yourself.” She let out an old, throaty laugh. “None of the younger staff were keen on giving this old room the tender love and care she deserves, I’m glad not all of you youngins’ are so self-interested, and frightened of hard work.”
“I-” She began, confusion shortly creasing in her forehead. ‘Armitican. You sonova-’ “Yes, please.” She said, voice sweet. “And please, don’t worry about it.”
The woman beamed back and nodded, setting down the bucket just inside the door before scurrying off, the sound of movement further down the hall suggestion that one of the rooms Sana had spired earlier was, indeed, a supplies cupboard. Sana took the time to finish of the third last shelve of the bookcase, with only several weighty books remaining, their bindings still strong and sturdy. She opened up the first of the three, and found it to be an original tome, an old textbook of sorts. The shapes and curves of glyph symbols could still be seen with their coloured inks, however the writing was in a messy script, and coupled with the weathering of the pages, incomprehensible. She felt a tug of fondness for the book, however damaged it may have been, and set it aside altogether.
The next two books were no better, both old student’s work journals, the first thinner and more damaged, and when Sana sorted through its pages, she found there was little interest – apparent the previous own had greater interest in writing nonsense in class than they did in studying. The other was far older, and much more expert. Having been pressed into the far side of the shelf, it was in relatively good condition; however signs of age were showing through.
She browsed the book’s pages with ample care, finding that the front page of the book was the most corrupt, with little more and a ‘Z’ and a ‘Y’ decipherable. From what she could tell, it was a journal on a user of flux and alchemy (A strange combination, she thought), detailed and well written, with the book filled from cover to cover, the last page sporting an unfinished sentence with ‘…’, suggesting that there exists a second.
“If you want it, you can take it. Better use in the hands of a youth, than burnt or otherwise disposed of.”
“No, no! I- I was only- I’m just- Are you sure?”
The woman set down a broom, duster, and cloth, and Sana found that she seemed older than she was a few minutes ago – fully taking in her depth of her laugh-lines and the bitterness in her tone. “Don’t be foolish, I wouldn’t offer you something I did not wish you to have.”
Sana felt as though she were ten, and a broad grin broke her expression. “Right, thank-you.” She gave the woman a slight bow, grateful for her generosity, or rather, backing her up in her decision.
She quickly moved and laid the journal upon the old glyphing tome, before returned to the self – picking back up her rhythm – finishing the entire book shelf before noticing the woman was yet to leave. Sana sighed and collected the cloth, drawing out one of the nicer looking chairs and cleaning it off. “Please, Ma’am,” She said, before wringing out the cloth in the bucket provided and beginning her systematic wipe down of the now-clear shelving, “If you’re going to stay, I’d much rather you take a seat.”
The older woman didn’t question or answer back, taking her now-clean seat graciously.
“I learned in this classroom, y’know.” She began, and Sana wasn’t sure if she was overjoyed or annoyed. One of her favourite past times as a child was to listen to the stories of her great aunt, but that was different with a mere stranger.
“What was it like?” She asked, realising only after she spoke the words that she genuinely care for the answer. She divided her attention between listening and cleaning, at the time returning to the bucket to rinse the blackened cloth, dragging the heavy, wooden, thing back to the shelf.
The woman took in a shaky breath, “Not too much different.” Sana could hear the sadness in the woman’s words, but chose not to comment.
“Is that so?” she enquired, deciding that maybe if she engaged in full on conversation, she’d forget the much and grime that she washing away, nor question just how long it had been there. “I can’t find myself believing that. Surely there must have been some differences.”
“They weren’t as strict on Reimancy, then. Gods, we prided ourselves on it. These limits are the work of the current Dawn matriarch, the one who came before her was different. Not quite as kind or considerate, but she had her strengths.”
The room dissolved into silence, then, the only real sound being that of splashing water as Sana finished up the last shelf.
“I’ll change the water,” the woman offered, standing and collecting the bucket of black long before she could be challenged.
“No- I’ll-,” Sana sighed and shook her head, wiping the back of her hand across her brow as she took in the enormity of the remaining two cupboards. Neither were as big as the first, but that didn’t particularly mean that they were small. Now that she’d cleared out the centremost on, however, she was able really look at it – bath in the beauty was the cupboard’s clawed feet and decorative head, the seemingly woven columns that rose from the edges to the top, and the subtle carving that was present on the faces of the thick shelves.
Even the colour was rich, with the now-clean mahogany shining through. She shot a glance at the other cupboards, letting her gaze drift from one to the other and back again. They were a matching pair, as it seemed both adorned with clawed feet, and a more simplistic design, with the major features carved scenes, and colour most liking even more beautiful than the larger one, under all the much and grime, that is.
She felt a wave of new found vigour wash over her, and she made quick of unloading the remaining two cupboards, no longer taking too much care in inspecting the contents of the books, already happy with what she’d managed to score. The first shelf was done and dusted, literally, when the woman returned and retook her chair, humming an old song as she did so. Sana gave her a soft smile and kept on with her work, mind flitting over the number of different stories that she could tell to keep herself entertained.
She scrubbed hard on the shelving, the cloth blackening not nearly as it quickly as it did with the first, with Sana only having to rinse it once to finish the shelf. She began the next shelf, and immediately stepped into her routine of grabbing a book, opening to a random page, gauging it, hopeful it may be of use, before throwing it into the pile to be discarded. Halfway through the shelf, she happened upon a coloured piece, and although it bore no relation, she was reminded of Wind Reach.
“I have a story I wish to tell, but I must warn you – I have no talent in this art,” She called, placing the book onto the discarded pile, and speaking as she worked. “When I was a little girl, in Wind Reach, I heard many legends, one was of a great eagle rider, Arryn.” She paused and took breath, throwing a glance in the direction of the woman as another two books joined the death march. The woman look at her with the most curious gaze, before nodding on. “Well, to be honest I’m not sure if you could call it a legend, more of a fable us children shared. I’m sure what I tell will be rather different to how it goes… There is also the fact that I was around eight at the time, so most of this will be myself making up titbits to fit.”
The shelf was clear and she once more wrung the cloth and scrubbed away. “He was born of a lower class, his mother a commoner and father some artisan – but he was born with golden eyes. Eyes so much like the great eagles themselves, his mother wept upon his birth, initially intending to abandon the child, but completely bowled over by their beauty. At first, life was difficult, incredibly so. But things changed when he came of age...”
Sana gave her story a short break as she continued on with her cleaning, washing over the shelf an extra time, not quite pleased with her own quality of work. She had almost forgot to carry on with her tale when she finished and moved onto the next shelf. “He disregarded his status something fierce, and got into more street fights than any one – quickly becoming known for his talent in unarmed combat, and how he managed to subdue his opponents without the use of lethal force.” She broke her story telling voice, and added in her own little bit of commentary.
“I don’t know what you know about my mother’s people,” Sana said, giving the woman an odd look as she cleared out the remaining books. “But very few of such fights ended without a lot of blood. Deaths were common, and at times glorified. To hear about a hero who did not kill was such a strange thing to us. He never really sounded Inarta, more like my father and the folks who passed through.”
Sana shook her head, wringing out the cloth and beginning the wipe down. “Any way, that’s not important. Arryn became very well known within the settlement, and even ventured off with those born into higher classes, and the children of Eagle riders, as they showed off their stupidity to the world, especially when they went to show off their ‘bravery’. As a commoner, he was different to the others. He had more to prove, in a sense. Whereas some had to show that they were worth whatever profession, he had to prove that he was worth respect, regardless of his cast.
"So he did as his level was expected to, he was quiet, and he watched. On the second day to the cliff sides, he saw danger before it came to pass. One of the boys was trying to do something ridiculous, I can scarcely recall what, taking a jump into shallow waters, or trying to climb a section of loose rock… whatever it was, he stepped in stopped the boy from acting, eventually using force as a persuasive measure. He was ridiculed for what he did. He valued life more than any Inarta yet to live, and to some, that was a sign of weakness.”
Sana had finished wiping down the next two shelves before she’d even noticed it, so caught up in that tale of hers, time was finally running as it should. There was only one left remaining, then, and she took greater care in removing the tomes from their high position, cautious of falling debris. “The third time he went to the cliffs it was unwelcome; the offspring of the great eagles were fledging, and those hopeful of becoming an eagle rider were determined to bond with a feathered beast, or die trying.
"Of course, they could have gone to the aviary, and most likely had the same affect… but the most bold liked doing things the hard way.” She felt like she needed to add in a disclaimer, looking the woman coolly in the eye as she removed the final few books, “I’m speaking straight from memory, here. A decade of time sets quite a rot throughout the mind.”
The woman nodded, shrugging. “A fine tale is a fine tale, whether it be true or not. And there is little you need to worry about me, I know much of your mother’s culture, I can self-correct where necessary.”
Sana frowned, and felt a shot of cold go through her, but continued on with the story, slowly washing down the shelve as she went. “On this third visit, the boys had reached an all new low, acting in such a way that they not only risked their own lives, but also the Great Eagles. None wanted to imprint on the runt of the crop, so they did little to monitor their own movements and actions when nearing eagles that seemed like the worst of the nest. One of the elder kids strayed too close to one of such birds, and attempted to climb a cliff to show off.
"Arryn saw a large, loose rock begin to tumble close towards the small fledging, and put himself between the rock and the bird, grazing his arms and almost falling, most likely having broken bones had he not been so strong, but no doubt saving the small beast.” Sana washed the cloth and stretched her back, giving herself a moment to twist and stretch.
“People aren’t going to stay enthralled in your tales if you keep breaking and adding commentary” the woman mentioned, shifted her position on the chair.
She gave the woman an odd look, before smiling and nodding, moving onto the last cupboard, already able to tell that the bottom several rows were well and truly water damaged, and deciding to take books out of their misery. “I told you I’m bad at this.”
“No one starts off ‘good’”
“I beg to differ.”
“They’re an abnormality.”
Sana laughed as she cleared the books, her grin girlish and playful. “I’ll let my brother and sister know next time I see them.”
“Yes, you tell them the words of an old hag, I’m sure they’ll take it to heart.”
“Oh, I’ll make sure to leave out the ‘old hag’ bit out. Maybe I’ll call you a wise-woman, instead. Make you sound cooler.”
“Get on with the story, child.”
“Right.” She laughed, “Sometime later, when the Eagles had grown larger and were ready to make their formal bonds, there was a single eagle that stood out above all. The boys and girls who’d recklessly terrorised the cliffs and beaches each pushed and prodded one another, all utterly sure that it would one of them that the noble beast had claimed.
"Instead, she chose Arryn, the commoner boy who watched and listened both before and as he acted. Who was protective, and had enough sense to at least use his words before he used force. The two, Arryn and eagle, shared a tight bond, and went on to be the best duo of their generation.” She paused, taking out a book and checking, before throwing it onto the pile, adding with a smile, “Or something.”
“What an eloquent ending.”
“Thanks, I appreciate the compliment.”
The older woman hummed and giggled, before standing from her chair. “It was a marvelous, if not novice, tale. Thank you for entertaining my old bones. I’ll let you finish up your work. Don’t worry about disposing of the books – I’ll have those in charge of bins and disposal pick them up a little later.”
Sana turned and smiled, waving off the older woman as she disappeared behind the door. “Thank you!” Once she was out of sight, Sana sighed heavily, and was quick to complete the last bookshelf, the bucket a pool of black filth by the end of it.
With the three massive bookshelves well and truly complete, there seemed to be little left to do – the largest of the table now stacked with books. She moved the cloth and bucket the corner of the room, before going full throttle at the place with her feather duster in hand. She went over the remaining desks, first – the six, large desks placed in neat, even rows, no draws to empty or clean, thankfully.
She ran a finger over each desk once she was finished cleaning, gauging the amount of muck and grime present. She could easily get away with the first five, the last desk needing a bit of a go over. “I suppose the desks had their own dust covers at some point...” she assumed, reminding herself of the thick linen fabric that covered the back cupboards.
She gave a satisfied huff, before turning on her heel to empty and refill the bucket - stopping in her tracks. ‘Oh sh-’
“I can’t say I’m impressed with your progress, Elthorne. However, I am glad I caught you before you left.” His words were cold and condescending, and might have been confused as some odd, indifferent statement, had it not come from the mouth of Professor H.M. Armitican.
‘How the hell did he-’
“I’d have expected you to be done by now, so you could run several errands, however, as you are still predisposed, it looks like I’ll have to cross the city myself.”
‘Poor you’
“I expect you to be outside the main meeting hall at 3 bells past dusk Rest, tomorrow.”
“What is the work outlook?”
“Nothing you’ll enjoy, I’m sure. Try and finish up here before dawn, tomorrow will be long.”
‘Great.’ “Yes, sir.”
He gave a hard look about the room, hawkish eyes lingering on the bookshelves, and lip curling as his gaze fell upon the desks. “The desks need a thorough wipe down, however I am sure the staff are more than capable of doing such tasks. The floor must be swept and a way of disposing the books found, however.”
“The books already have their destination set. I was about to begin sweeping.”
He frowned as his gaze dwelt on a string of cupboards along the back wall, failing to react to Sana’s words. “That will be all.”
Sana opened her mouth to speak, but let her words dissolve into a sigh as the Professor left. “Of all the great teachers in this tower,” she breathed, striding towards the broom, and taking it in hand. “II had to be stuck with him. How many other assistants are assigned cleaning tasks, of all things?” She let her complaints fade into bitter grumbles and she swept the place clean, finding that she really did little work – and slightly understanding how Armitican expected it to be finished so much earlier. She swept the floors with long, fluid movements, disgust putting off her prospects of dinner as large balls and piles of filth made the lot. “Oh,” she laughed, already giggling at the own little joke she was about to make, “So that’s what the floor is supposed to look like.”
She brushed and swept the pile to the door, heaping the lot of it in a hefty pile. She really ought to clean it up, she thought, guilt sinking her gut for a responsibility she was yet to shirk. She threw the cloth into the black water, before taking the duster and broom in one hand, the bucket in the other, and waddling down the hallway to the supplies closet. She gave two hard taps. No answer. She tapped another times thrice. “Hello?” She tried, listening keenly for movement from the inside, nothing.
She tried the doorhandle, hoping that it’d be unlocked, to no avail. “Damn,” she murmured, leaning the broom against the wall, with the bucket and duster set down beside it. “They’re fine here, right?” She asked herself, slowly backing away. She nodded to herself in approval, remembering how the little section was in use by staff, anyway. The odd professor may stumble upon it, but no other students could complain. Her stomach sunk for the umpteenth time that day, remembering her professor’s words. ‘Tomorrow is going to be a long day.’
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by Arysana on September 28th, 2013, 8:31 am 
