A Snowed Abode

Library

There was a library in the middle of this village down below, the wooden house the people referred to before; not quite noticeable it was from the outside, but within it was unmistakably a place for books, and... statues, it so seemed, for some reason. There was this gigantic one of a dragon that seemed almost plucked out of the sky to leave near a bunch of bookshelves, along with two smaller ones, one of some kind of knight, ensconced in this silver they build these objects with, that seemed to have inscribed...

"The fundament of oppression is what?
The tip of this sword's impression?
Or the mind of a horde?"

Pax thought this might have been ever so slightly more straightforward than the ones before, but why would anyone bother with this when there are books that can even more readily impart information? Or so he wondered... but then again, perhaps, it is another facet with which impressions, as indeed it talked about (but faintly different definition now), can be made...

The other, that of a magician of some sort, seemed, as if in dialogue, to say...

"From thine pointed sword
to mine magical cord
is there no disjointed continuum?"

This, he thought, must have been more obscure than most, but then so is this strange concoction called 'magic', no? The very word 'occult', meaning secret, implies as such, one supposes... still, it seemed to be making a comparison between the tools of both characters, and how different, or not, their implementations might be... perhaps?

Either way, he decided not to spend too much time on it, as it did not matter that much, ultimately... he always indeed seemed to explore all for the sake of curiosity, but sometimes going too far with this reduces still the possibility of wonder...

Finally, the aforementioned dragon, almost in the middle of the room, as if channelling another atmosphere and dimension, equivocated...

"Choices once made, in time...
could chime, in blood and monologues...
would, though, ideologues climb?"

These might or might not make sense in the future, Pax thought, but at any rate the books did make... slightly... more sense...

First, though, he went upwards, ignoring the stack of weapons oddly hanging in a library nearby, in order to talk to the sole person there...

"Who might you be...?" He said, looking above the spectacles waiting, as if with grudge, on top of his nose, with a slightly wrinkly face... not that it had anything to do with any of this, but trivia could be sometimes almost as interesting as other types of information...

"I am Pax from the northern frontier, and I came here to investigate what exactly is happening in regards to the apparent threat... I assume you are the one known as Prudens?"

"Why, yes, I am... I was once this monarch's advisor... before madness set in, although it always seemed to be almost seeping in... now it is thoroughly infused, though..." Wait, how? Infused like a lemon juice might do with water? Or perhaps, more relevantly, dopamine in the amygdala? I suppose some monarch's advisor might not think of it in these terms, but what else is madness?

"Infused...? How, ever? And how is it that there always seemed to be something?" Pax asked, as if he was so eager to know the answer, which considering the wording and grammar one might suppose it was relevant to clarify, for something 'seeps' interestingly..

"You see, try to understand this from a personal and subjective perspective... a psychological first-person view, if you can... ego can grow or shrink based on differing experiences..." So, is it like a balloon? Metaphors are not so metaphorical after all, then? And one wonders, are we also to deal with the id and superego, perchance? Who knows...