Solo [Syliran Archives] When Not on Patrol

[Lorden Ladis]

9th of Winter, 514 AV

Lorden stretched his knowledge-lusting eyes out over the aged, timber table, that was now planted steadily before him. It was but a moment before his blue orbs reached the first object of his eye's extension, a voluminous musty leather tome, which was but the furthermost to the right of three aging books. All three books Lorden had only recently set out on the wooded surface.

Here we go, Lorden thought; as he starred absent-mindedly at the red volume.

The work fatigued hands of the knight traversed forward, and into the air over the table; before angling themselves over the first of the books. Lorden's left hand braced against the spine of the tome, living flesh planting itself delicately against the porous cattle-skin. Meanwhile, his right hand slid across the front cover; collecting brown dust as it went along; before hooking up and under the back of the right-side of the volume. Now, with the precious literature firmly in his grasp, Lorden folded his elbows in, thus bringing the book up closer to his chest and eyes; he then set the latter to the task of examining the tome's title.

On the Practice of Proper Prose. As the Knight's eyes dragged to meet the last vowel of the lengthy title, he moved on to the small bit of subtext, which was situated directly there under it. Words on Kontinese Writing Practices. Finishing the sentence, Lorden's eyebrow tugged upwards somewhat; his attentions then shooting back to the word 'Kontinese'.

Another race wrote this? Bah, the book's probably not even on the same writing style, as we use, Lorden thought, using the word 'we' lightly; before allowing his brow to slowly settle back down naturally. Then, frowning, but figuring a quick glance wouldn't corrupt his non-existent writing skills, Lorden cracked open the Konti-authored book. The Knights eyes grew wide in self-amusement.

No, definitely won't be learning any bad habits from this, Lorden thought as he starred on at page number one, with a smirk; before snapping the book closed. The writing was legible enough; as the graying letters had been penned in a pretty, slanted, style of writing. Still, being 'pretty' was about all the book had been worth to Lorden, as he couldn't begin to read a word of the foreign tongue it was scribbled in.

Lorden replaced the book further up on the table, and closed his eyes; smiling and sighing simultaneously, as he shook his head lightly from one side to another. Never judge a book by it's cover, he thought

[Lorden Ladis]

9th of Winter, 514 AV

Opening his eyes, Lorden only retained a small trace of his self-indulgent smile, bordering on the edges of his dimples. Lorden reached his dominant arm out to touch the next volume of the bunch; brushing the dust from it, as his fingers connected with the frail cloth cover. The second book was significantly thinner than the first, and rather than a fading scarlet, it was possessed of a dilapidated tangerine coloring; a tell-tale sign that in it's youth, it might have very well been a vivid orange.

The differences in the tomes did not fade into obscurity there, rather, there were quite a few variations not concerning the color. The book Lorden now touched, was not only thinner than the one he had previously handled, but also wider and taller in width and height; Lorden figured it must have been a pain to find just the right place for it, being so oddly shaped, as it was. Still, the oddity of the book's composition, had been one of the reasons he had chosen to dislodge it in particular, from it's place on the shelf.

Unique on the outside, perhaps it'll live up to it's cover, Lorden recalled his thoughts, from when he had browsed the many rows of shelves, only chimes before, and had come across the book.

Then again, I judged the other book in such a way, and it wasn't even in common, Lorden mused.

Remembering himself, and pulling out of his thoughts; Lorden retracted his right hand, from off of the dusty book, and back down to his thigh, before brushing the dust collected from the book cover, off on to his britches. As he was cleaning his right hand, his left was already grabbing the newly wiped down tome, and lifting it up. As the last bit of dust scrapped itself from his flesh, Lorden grasped for the right-side of the elevated book with his right hand; before maneuvering his two appendages to move their cargo in unison, till the the book stood with it's spine touching the table.

Taking a deep breath, Lorden cracked open the book so that it was completely open; before sliding his hands under both side-edges of the book, untill both of his palms touched the front and the back of it simultaneously, and would be pointed skyward, were you to remove the covers of the book from over-top them.

Palms now under the covers of the book, Lorden raised the volume to his face; before touching the tip of his nose, to the middle of the pages he had opened the book to randomly. Smiling, Lorden filled his lungs with the smells of the archaic paper, that had tanned with it's age.

The smell of written wisdom giving in to the years, Lorden thought as he inhaled the smell of the tangerine tome.

[Lorden Ladis]

9th of Winter, 514 AV

As he exhaled the dust-ridden air audibly, Lorden slid his left hand down to the bottom of the book, and maneuvered his fingers so that the spine was gripped firmly; his thumb now pressed against the open pages, as his index, middle, and ring fingers braced the back of the cloth cover.

Slowly, Lorden moved the volume away from his face, and titled the faded tome so that the pages and text were comfortably visible. The knight briefly smiled and softened his eyes, in the recognition that the writing he now gazed upon was indeed in a familiar tongue; before he removed his right hand from the back of the book; only to utilize the appendage, in turning the markedly thick pages in reverse. Lorden continued to flip the pages backwards, until his blue orbs gazed upon the title sheet; and not just the random point he had only ticks before, opened the book to, to enable him to indulge in the smell of the dusty cloth pages.

Lorden's eyes connected with the graying black text of the title, as his blue spheres hovered around the middle of the title page. A Treatise on Humanity, Lorden couldn't help but tilt his head to the right almost unnoticeably, as he read that title.

A 'Treatise on Humanity'... it could be interesting. Then again, what couldn't I know about humans? The only thing outnumbering us Humans in Syliras, after all, are the rats under our beds. The thoughts had shot through Lorden's head rather abruptly as his eyes drifted along the title, but as he thought them, he couldn't help but feel a nagging suspicion he was wrong, somehow.

Lorden allowed the book to slip down a couple inches in the air, his arms following it, as he took a thoughtful breath.

Actually... What do I really know about us? Lorden's mind was thinking now, and like a Tiaden Warhorse driven into full cant, there was no stopping it.

I could say we're good at heart, that we love the good things in life. But shyke if that's the only truth; good or not we do some pretty bad things. Lorden got a slight rush up the base of his skull as something clicked.

And what is a 'good thing' really? A man having a drink with his friends would tell you the ale in his hands was a good thing, but so would a drunk with his drink coloring his shirt and the floor. And there it was, his thoughts had driven him to an entirely different stance on the matter, than were he stood moments before.

Lorden eye's couldn't help but drift their attentions back down to the tangerine object, he now grasped absently-mindedly in his hands.

Alright let's see if you can teach me something after all. I'm listening... ready to read I mean.

[Lorden Ladis]

9th of Winter, 514 AV

Lorden turned one page over, not knowing what to expect. What the young knight found after flipping the sheet of paper over, was a large block of text; the introduction.

To quote a famous man. ""Humans have had divine stewards, protectors, caretakers, yet no god has stepped forward to be our father. Among all of creation, we alone stand unclaimed. Simple logic therefore mandates that we claim all."

To be honest, I do find myself agreeing with the old Suvan Emperor. I've seen men do amazing and horrible things; from the slave markets in Ravok, to the majestic towers of Syliras, we certainly don't do anything halfheartedly. Nor do we Humans claim a thing, without leaving a sizable mark on the environment.

Still, humanity's blatant drive to accomplish amazing feats, ventures even beyond architecture and majestic buildings. Everyone with even one ear to ground, has heard tell of wizard's doing things, with but a flick of their wrists, that should logically only be within the capabilities of the gods. Well, today I tell you these are no mere tales.

Wizards, as we common-folk know them, do indeed hold the powers of the gods in their hands. I once saw a young woman flayed alive for trying to rob a feeble old man. The fire that consumed her, simply lept to life, at what only appeared the mutterings of nonsense, from the decrepit wizard's mouth.

Truly we Humans are capable of being like the gods; yet so few of us grasp for such a substantial mantle. Within this writing, I will relate the tales and sights I have seen concerning humanity and our greatness, and our weakness. I will not however, dissect the ethics of what we do and can do; whether I think men should be able to create flame from thin air, is nothing but culture-influenced speculation from a graying traveler.

Lorden found the introduction far too short, the words a bit clunky, and overall the whole thing was far too interesting; and a part of him, even feared what he so hungrily desired to read more of. Lorden had known the mage-knights, of course; or at least he had spoken to them briefly. Yet, he had always held a reserved respect for those of his brothers who wielded magic; and never truly pressed them about their craft, as he feared how they might answer.

It wasn't just the mention of magic though; it was the surprise at what he thought he'd learn nothing from, peaking his interest so, that really got to him. After all, there were so many unknowns the author mentioned; he had heard of Suvan, but he didn't really know much about it. And magic, it was a complete mystery to the young knight.

Giving in to his desire, Lorden yet again turned the pages of the small tome. This time, flipping the sheets over revealed a list of sorts; what Lorden figured must be the index.

Introduction: 1-10
Cities of Sylira: 1-52
- Syliras: 1-25
- Zeltiva: 26-39
- Sunberth: 40-52
Tales from Tavern Bard's Mouths: 53-72
What I've seen of Magic: 73-89

The introduction almost looked like some kind of guide, Lorden noted.

Someone actually took the time to write a travel-guide to the cities; maybe we humans are stranger than we look, Lorden mused to himself; reflecting on the simple index set to text before him.

The young knight's excitement actually deflated somewhat, at the realization of what the book 'seemed' to be. After all, what appeared to be a guide, hardly promised to be an encyclopedia, capable of answering all his newfound questions. Of course, there was always the last two sections of the book, Lorden noted; they at least offered some promise, of out of the ordinary tales.

Being taken by a thought, Lorden abandoned his musing for a moment. Instead, he deigned to grasp the first page of the book he held, with his right thumb, before running said thumb across the paper, and flipping quickly through the entirety of the volume he held in his hands. His wiry eyes attempted to mentally estimate the length of the text, as the pages folded by.

Seemingly content with whatever he had gleamed from flipping though the paper sheets, Lorden allowed himself a self-assuring smile, before setting the cloth-bound manuscript down on the table, directly in front of him. The knight then turned his attentions downward to the floor, right to where a brown leather satchel sat, where it was propped up against the leg, of his contrastingly light brown chair.

[Lorden Ladis]

9th of Winter, 514 AV

Lorden's right hand hooked up and under the thick leather flap, of his satchel. Meanwhile, he positioned his left appendage so that it braced against the back of the bag, and would prevent the satchel from tipping over, and making quite the mess on the floor. Then, content that the bag would remain planted, firmly enough to the ground, Lorden flipped it's flap over it's back, obscuring his left hand with cattle-skin in the process.

With the satchel now revealing it's contents to the open air, Lorden moved his hand from the back of the bag, and positioned it over it's opening. For a brief moment, the knight contemplated what he might need, before sending his hand eagerly, into the shadow-filled container.

Lorden ran his hand across the various square shaped objects in his bag, feeling soft-leather, brittle cattle-skin, and then bone as his hand slid along. The human's hand stopped, however, as it felt the solidly cut white bone, his fingers wrapping around it's perimeter, from nearly the moment he first connected with it.

Having grabbed hold of what he sought for, Lorden pulled up and out, exposing a dirty-hardcover tome, from within the darkness of his bag, to the musty air all around him. Lorden held the empty book up to his face for a moment, admiring the bone-bound book he had brought with him; before planting it, gingerly, beside the tangerine tome, on the wooden table.

Not stopping his preparations for a moment, Lorden, allowed his right hand to slip from both the book and the wooden table, and bent back down to his satchel, and once more dove into the medium-sized container.

This time, Lorden's hands probed deeper into the bag, brushing past the four remaining books stored away within. The Knight wasn't looking for any leather-bound tome, rather, he was feeling for the smoothness of glass, and after only a few ticks he had found it. Removing a small one ounce vial of writing ink, Lorden hastened himself a bit, hurrying somewhat in anticipation, to plant the inkwell a few inches from the two books.

Finally, bending over one last time, Lorden reached back into the bag, to much the same
place he had pulled the inkwell from, but a bit deeper, before removing a long speckled quill. Satisfied, Lorden pulled up, with the sharpened feather in tow, folding shut his satchel with his left hand as he straightened in his chair. Lorden then took a moment to move himself in his seat a bit, and settle back in, before laying the quill down lengthwise, parallel to the inkwell.

The knight turned would-be-scribe, then, realizing he was a bit stiff, stretched his right arm out lengthwise across his chest, before moving the crook of his left arm up to his elbow, to form a right-angle of sorts. Now in the proper position, Lorden pushed in to his chest, and up with his left arm, stretching his shoulder and bicep till the collected soreness worked itself out. The sore knight then repeated the movement in reverse, this time stretching his other arm, before allowing both of the newly-stretched arms to fall, and rest on his thighs.

Lorden, now comfortable enough, began to survey the sight set before him, a quill, blank book, and a text of valuable knowledge; everything seemed to be in order. Taking a deep breath, Lorden exhaled with the near-silent words.

"Well, all right then."

[Lorden Ladis]

9th of Winter, 514 AV

Lorden's right arm moved forward, stopping only when his fingers connected, with the cloth cover of the tangerine tome, sitting before him. As his fingers touched the book, Lorden positioned the digits, so that they angled under the rightmost edge of the volume; and then, with unhesitating care, he slid the fingers under the book cover. Eagerly, Lorden took the same fingers he had opened the book with, and flipped open to the volume's title page, for the second time that night.

Lorden noted, that the newly-opened tome now lay flat against the table, with little resistance or fuss; the years had spirited away any elasticity, or tendency to conceal it's secrets, it might have once had.

Lorden took a deep breath before removing his hand from the treatise, and driving it over to the left slightly. The knight wasn't quite as gentle with the bone-bound book, as he hefted it's hardcover open, as he had been with the cloth tome belonging to the archives. In Lorden's mind, ownership allowed one to do away with worry for causing wear; things would eventually wither away with the years, in their own time, anyway. Not to mention, as a knight, he didn't exactly have the longest life-expectancy.

My things will probably live longer than I do, Lorden mused; the left-side of his mouth curled into a sly smile.

With both books now open, Lorden reached across the table, with a hesitant right hand, to retrieve his speckled quill. The knight grasped his middle and pointer fingers around the thin feather's shaft, noting how the soft fluff of the feather, tickled the top of his leftmost knuckle. As he held the quill, Lorden couldn't help but imagining, just how easy the quill would be to snap in half; something he'd have to avoid.

Lorden took yet another short breath, as he willed his right hand over to the inkwell, situated only a few inches from his blank book. Meaning to remove the quark, that separated the ink from the open air, Lorden ;taking care to maintain hold of his quill; butted the webbing between his thumb and index finger, up to the quark, so that said fingers, now surrounded the spongy material like a pair of scissors. Still, Lorden figured he might need a bit of leverage to avoid even a small spill, and thus, he allowed his right hand to lift from his thigh, and grasp the bottom glass of the well. Feeling he had a good enough hold on the inkwell's quark, Lorden squeezed it between his two fingers, and hefted upwards; and with but a simple friction-derived pop, Lorden felt the quark, sliding out of it's sheath.

The ink was alarmingly runny, Lorden noted, as he looked on what little bit of the black liquid, still clung to the bottom of the quark. This was the first time Lorden had actually seen the ink, having not thought to insist on examining what he was buying, when he had purchased it. Giving off a low grumble of concern, brought on from worry of staining the table, Lorden opened his satchel with the toe of his boot. The knight then reached into his now-opened leather bag, with his free left hand; all the while taking care to tilt the quark with his other appendage slightly, to avoid any drips.

Still watching the quark, Lorden ruffled around in his small bag for a moment, before his phalanges came into contact with a slightly-rough surface. Eyes widening a bit in recognition, Lorden wrapped his fingers around the thin, sheet-like material, before removing the piece of paper from the bag, and laying it out flat on the table.

Happy to be rid of the thing, so he could get to the real work, Lorden placed the ink-stained quark upside-down, on the sheet of paper. For a moment, Lorden turned his attentions back to the two books, but he just couldn't shake a nagging suspicion.

No that just won't work, might even make a mess, Lorden thought; allowing his eyes to drift back to the upturned quark. The knight inched his left arm over to the quark and flipped it, so that the ink-stained side, was touching the paper it now sat on.

Lorden figured that if he had left the quark with the stained side up, gravity very well might have brought the ink running down, all the way to the top of the quark. And when he went to put the sealed inkwell in it's place, in his bag, it just might have stained everything up.

Thank Sylir I caught that, I just bought that satchel. Hae, I just bought everything in it, Lorden thought; as his mouth formed into a self-contented smirk.

[Lorden Ladis]

9th of Winter, 514 AV

Lorden tapped his quill against the solid wood of the table, starring for a moment at the two open books before him.

I guess now is as good a time, as any, Lorden thought; biting the left edge of his lip for but a moment. Lorden couldn't say he wasn't nervous, this was the first time he had ever really attempted doing anything like this, he knew nothing about it, and he didn't really care to make any mistakes. The Knight ran his tongue across the bottom of his pink lip, and took a deep breath; before reaching across the table with his quill pointed out.

The quill's tip sank unchallenged into the core of the inkwell; Lorden twirled the feather's point around in the black, runny, liquid for a few moments. Slowing his spin of the quill, the knight angled his wrist upwards slowly, and began drawing the quill up with it.

Shyke, Lorden thought; for as he attempted to move the pen out from over the glass ink-vial, black droplets rained from the quill point, down on to the paper below. Lorden stalled his hand, and looked down at the paper appreciatively.

Still, the knight's eyes couldn't help but drift, from the blessing of foresight, that was the cloth paper; over to his suspended writing utensil. Lorden raised a single eyebrow, before shaking the quill back and forth inquisitively. Lorden's shaking of his quill, only proved to elicit more black droplets, which fell quickly from the feathered shaft, to paint the white sheet below it.

Lorden tensed his lips to the right, and furrowed his brow. The knight shook what ink remained on the quill, off on to the paper, before dipping the quill tip quickly into the well; Lorden removed his pen just as quickly. Hesitantly, the knight moved his dominant hand over the side of the glass vial once more. Yet, black drops still rung themselves from the quill.

Well that wasn't worth the try, Lorden thought, reflectively. For another tick the knight paused.

Lorden shook the pen clean once more, and returned it to it's place in the vial. Lorden pulled his hand up slowly, as he starred thoughtfully at the whole of the inkwell. In an experimental manner, Lorden scrapped the pen against the edge of the vial, causing a few droplets to coalesce on the rim of the glass, before rolling back into the pool of black.

That's it, Lorden thought; observing the nature of the ink, to lend itself to being wiped, from the quill point.

With renewed confidence, the scholarly knight dunked his pen once more. Lorden began to remove his quill from the vial slowly, this time, as he angled his wrist up to remove the quill, he also moved his right hand over the left, a bit; and scrapped the point of his pen against the glass rimming. Ink droplets coalesced from the utensil, into the well, as Lorden repeated the wiping motion with the quill. Curiously, but lacking his past hesitancy, Lorden drug his hand over the right. No droplets fell.

And that, that was worth the try, Lorden thought; softening his eyes.

Lorden allowed his small victory with the quill's ink, to fade to the back of his mind, granting him confidence; but not obscuring the task at hand. Slowly, the knight moved the quill further to the right, away from the protection the paper spread offered; his hand kept moving till it was over the first page of the bone-bound book. Lorden smirked.

This, better be worth the bells it'll take, Lorden mused to himself.

All right, here I go.

[Lorden Ladis]

9th of Winter, 514 AV

Lorden squinted a bit, starring on at his hand and quill, as they hovered above the blank page of his bone-bound book. For a tick, the knight's squinted eyes moved over to glance cautiously, away from his quill; taking in the words on the tangerine tome's title page.

Lorden, now sure of what he was planning to emulate; glanced back to the left, to his own text. Pausing a bit, Lorden looked on at the rough paper deliberately, mentally guesstimating where the center of the sheet, happened to be. A low sound, somewhere between a sigh and a grumble, escaped the knight's furrowed lips.

Apparently finding it's current placement to be less than ideal; Lorden prudently moved the quill he held, up and to the right a bit. The knight ran his teeth together without much thought, and jerked his hand a few mere inches to the left. Slightly nodding to himself, Lorden touched the quill to the paper; already the ink began to coalesce down, and make it's mark upon the blank page.

Lorden pushed the quill up and into the paper, delighting in the rough contact between the woven cloth fibers and the quill tip, as he drew a titled line, which was angled deliberately to the right. Smiling thoughtfully at the prospect of actually doing, that which he meant to do; Lorden stopped his quill, creating the top of the line he was penning, and brought the ink-covered tip down parallel to said line, in much the same manner as had used to draw it, in the first place. The knight then stopped his pull of the quill, lifting it from the paper, as the bottom of the two lines became even to his eye.

Lorden took a short breath, before crossing his pen over through the air to the left; he then pushed his quill down into the middle, of the first line he had drawn. Deliberately, the Knight pulled his pen to the right, only stopping when he touched upon the second line, of the tepee-esque shape. And with all the aforementioned movements, Lorden penned into existence the first vowel, of his copied manuscript.

Satisfied, Lorden lifted his quill away from the paper. The Knight observed the near compulsively block-like lettering, with a certain satisfaction. His writing may not have been as elegant that of the Konti book he had glanced at, Lorden noted; but nonetheless, he found his eyes softened, at the sight of the large vowel. Observing his work, a certain thought occurred to Lorden; and with it a small smile.

One letter done, a few thousand to go.

[Lorden Ladis]

9th of Winter, 514 AV

Lorden reached over the table, allowing the quill he had been holding for quite some time, to slip down gingerly, coming to rest, next to the emptying inkwell; of which the pen had dipped into, many a time.

Lorden, took his newly-freed right hand, and turned the page of the Archive's tangerine tome; before allowing his tiring eyes, to drift back to his own copy of the manuscript. Though, before Lorden could get back to writing, the Knight couldn't help but allow his eyelids, to rise and fall for a few repetitions. However, still not assured of his alertness; Lorden reached his left hand to the back of his neck.

The sore twenty year old, took the skin of his nape into the fold of his hand, bending and unbending his knuckles; all in an attempt to work out the soreness, brought on by looming over the two books, set before him. The scholarly knight, pushed closed his eyelids solidly once more, subconsciously furrowing his brow in the process. Lorden took a few ticks to relax, before allowing his azure eyes, to open fully to the light. As his eyelids unfurled, Lorden's hand dropped from his nape; to fall gingerly to rest, on the table below.

Ser Lorden stretched his unused, and stiff jaw, opening and closing his lips; and just barely stifling a yawn. As he finished his stretching, the tired knight moved his left hand over to the tangerine tome, and nestled his index finger into the place, between the sheets of the open pages. Meanwhile, the knight's right hand slipped under the back, of the right-side of the tome; his thumb looping up over the right-hand pages, as his knuckles touched the table, that the book rested on.

With the volume's right side in his grasp, Lorden flipped the few remaining pages of the original text slowly and deliberately, with his thumb; as the pages slipped by, Lorden kept a careful count. There were but ten sheets left to copy, Lorden noted; ten sheets which he figured, couldn't take more than twenty or so chimes to pen.

Not caring to take the time, to take a recount of the book's remaining sheets; Lorden slipped his hand from under the tome, and grasped, with his right hand, the remaining small stack of pages, that were left un-turned, in the book. With the sheets now in hand, Lorden flipped the dry paper, all the way back to where he had placed his finger as a bookmark.

Making sure everything was nice and flattened, Lorden moved his hands, so that both touched one side of the open pages. With his palms now touching the paper of the tangerine tome, the knight, ran his two appendages away from each other, flattening the sheets beneath them with the movement.

Lorden took a breath, before clearing his throat silently. As he readied himself, the knight's eyes drifted over to where he had left his quill. Eager to be done, and reinvigorated by his closeness to that goal, Lorden stretched his hand out to touch the speckled pen; his right hand, brushing up to the inkwell, as the appendage moved.

Lorden wrapped his hand around the brown, dotted, quill; grasping the feathery shaft, Lorden fiddled with it's positioning, moving the thing in his fingers, until the pen was firmly within his control.

With his pen now wrapped up in his grasp, Lorden moved his right hand over to the right, a few inches. Now hovering over the inkwell, Lorden allowed his hand to lower, and the quill point therein, to descend into the black abyss of ink below it.

Twirling the pen in the thin ink, as had become a bit of a habit, Lorden withdrew his quill from the inkwell. The knight took a quick tick, to brush the excess liquid from the pen point, against the glass siding of the vial, as the pen pulled upwards from within it.

Hurrying his speed somewhat, Lorden moved his dominant hand, so that it, and the writing utensil it held, now hovered above the half-written page, of his copied manuscript. The knight-turned-copyist, now pushed his quill into the rough paper; Lorden made sure he was relatively in-line, with the rest of the block-like text penned on it, as the quill made contact with the sheet.

As Lorden pulled and pushed his pen into the paper, in a crescendo of squinted eyes and deliberate strokes, one breath turned into a vowel, a consonant, and then into a sentence. The pen stroked against the paper slowly and prudently, leaving it's dark mark. Every once in a while, Lorden would reach over to the left to dip his pen.

Occasionally, the knight would miss-pen a line, or even skip over a sentence entirely. On the occasions when he did make a mistake, Lorden would frown, or make some other general sign of discontent, and reach over to lay his pen down. Then with his hand free, the knight would retrieve a small knife, from beside the left-side of the inkwell, of which he had placed there in the copying process. With the minuscule blade in hand, Lorden had many times, inexpertly attempted, to scrape away the sizable number of mistakes, that he kept making, from the thick paper of his book. After he had removed any mistakes he had created, Lorden would always, once more, switch the knife in his hand, out for his speckled brown quill, and resume the copying process.

And thus it continued on; pen scrapped and slid across rough fibrous paper, and Lorden penned the words of the guide, bringing to life a second copy of the Archive's tome. The scratch-scratch of the knight's dark quill, could be heard throughout the library, as it formed the words of the treatise.

[Lorden Ladis]

9th of Winter, 514 AV

Lorden closed his eyes, allowing a small smile to frame itself on his face. The knight took a deep breath, filling his diaphragm, satisfactorily.

The novice copyist, gazed on at his work, taking in the last text-covered page, of the book he had penned.

Closing his eyes, Lorden flexed his neck to the right, and then bent it to the left. Then, in a self-contented manner, Lorden hooked the fingers of his right hand, underneath the cover of the Archive's tangerine-tome. The knight pushed his fingers upwards, following through with the movement of the book's cloth cover, and closed the volume.

With a creeping smirk, Lorden pushed the tangerine tome upwards, sliding it along, to sit next to the rest of the books he had borrowed. For a moment, Lorden's eyes glanced at the book sitting next to the tome, another cloth-bound book, this one was blue. Lorden shook his head; there wasn't going to be any time that night to crack open that book, he was far to tired. Resolving not to give mind to what he might be missing, Lorden glanced away from the blue book. Instead, Lorden glanced at his open book, but figuring he might as well give the ink a bit more time to dry, the knight reached for the inkwell beside it, instead.

Wrapping his left hand around the vial of ink, Lorden reached across his left arm with the opposite hand. As the knight's hand crossed his arm, he reached for the small, ink covered quark, sitting not too far from the inkwell.

Lorden grabbed the quark with his index finger and thumb, and moved it over to the right. The knight pushed the quark down, bottom-first, into the inkwell, sealing what black liquid was left, inside the glass container.

Moving his right hand from over the inkwell, Lorden grabbed the right-side of the vial. The knight, with the inkwell in hand, bent over, folding towards the satchel near his left side. With his dominant hand occupied with holding the ink container, Lorden awkwardly flipped the satchel open with his left appendage. As the leather bag opened, Lorden starred into it's brown, shallow depths. The knight's eyes drifted for a tick, before finding the place in the bag, he was looking for. Lorden reached his right hand into the satchel, placing the inkwell at the farthest left hand corner of the bag.

Lorden folded himself slowly back up to the table; the knight took a moment to rub his stiff lower back as he straightened.

It must have taken longer than I thought to copy everything, Lorden figured; taking a rasped breath as his hand massaged the bend in his vertebrae.

Moving his hand away from his spine, Lorden inched his arms towards his copy of, 'A Treatise on Humanity'. The knight closed the book, somewhat eager to remove himself from the library, and get on home. Lorden grasped the book, with both of his hands as it shut. Quickly the knight bent over, with the bone-bound book in tow, and deposited the volume, next to his other blank tomes, into his satchel.

Needing to stretch his legs, Lorden unfurled his knees, sliding the chair back a bit, with the movement. The knight grabbed hold of his still-open satchel as he rose, placing it gingerly on the table, as his knees locked and re-bent.

Lorden reached for his quill, starring at the ink still left on the pen. Lorden sighed, and wrapped his hand around the point of his quill, before pulling said hand along the ink-stained length, and wiping the quill clean.

Careful not to touch the bag with his ink-stained appendage, Lorden quickly deposited his quill into his satchel, setting it right beside the inkwell within it, before just as quickly withdrawing his hand.

Finally, Lorden reached for the stained paper that now sat alone, in front of the books on the table.

The paper did cost me, Lorden thought; instinctively grabbing for the fibrous sheet.

The knight removed the paper, before slowly folding it lengthwise, and then once more, this time in half. Lorden reached into his satchel, withdrawing his hand a tick later, with no trace of the paper he previously held.

Continuing his cleanup, Lorden flipped his satchel closed with his left-hand. The knight then picked his brown bag up, from off the table, and looped it's strap over his head, before allowing it to rest firmly on his shoulder.

With only one more matter to attend to before he could leave, Lorden reached for the rightmost of the books laying on the table. Picking the scarlet volume up, the human placed the tome on top of the larger book beside it. Then, Lorden moved his right hand over to the left, and absent-mindedly retrieved the smallest of the books, the blue cloth-bound one, and placed it atop the two books beside it.

Taking a breath, and glancing at the door, Lorden picked up the the stack of three books. The knight allowed his eyes to seek out the man, whom sat by the door, before setting his feet moving towards the scribe. Lorden only had to turn in the books he now held, and then he could go home, with his new treasure in tow.