Fire on Set

Chapter 1 - The Archives

The Library of the Archivists seemed to extend for leagues, with row upon row of shelves packed with manuscripts, scrolls, leather-bound books, and ledgers–all records of a society that Adrian despised. Any lesser man would have stood in awe of ceilings so high they were barely visible. The way the lantern light swung across the walls and illuminated the sheer volume of knowledge crammed into one space. Every section was marked by twin guards intricately carved into the stone pillars supporting the impossibly large cavern, their armor impervious and their expressions just as unyielding. The statues were easily fifty feet high, though Adrian was less intimidated and more curious as to how long they'd been there, silently keeping watch over the long-forgotten records.

Adrian turned his gaze away, continuing his stroll. He was here for a completely different reason than to admire the architecture, although that wouldn't stop him from analyzing every piece of the structure. He pulled his cloak tighter around his shoulders, the midnight blue folds billowing around him in some unnoticed wind flowing through the cavern. The only sound in the place was the tapping of his boots echoing off the walls. Adrian ran the tips of his fingers along the spines of books, admiring the inset jewels and intricately carved leather; his wooden hand clenched at his side absentmindedly. It wasn't like he was in a hurry; this was a rare opportunity to admire the place without worry, as recently the Archivists had been rather slack with their security.

Eventually, he arrived at the back of the cavern. Two large oak doors stood in his path, and hiding behind them... the Amulet of Arvina. Adrian pushed the doors inward, the palms of his hands against the cold ancient wood purified by time. The inner sanctum was quite different from the cavern outside, furnished with polished marble pillars and sandalwood trimmings. Incense burned in silver censers that hung from silver chains about the room, lighting it with an amber glow and filling it with a cloying scent. White smoke wafted around the room and as Adrian sauntered in he barely glanced around as he walked straight for the altar in the center. His eyes were firmly glued to the amulet as he approached, his breath slowed as he reached his hand out to lightly touch it. The amulet pulsed with power, both alive and cold; powerful ... and yet completely useless in the wrong hands. The crimson liquid inside the delicate hourglass in the center shifted unnaturally, both solid and fluid at once. Around it was a pale glow emitting some sort of aura. No wonder his client wanted it; if they hadn't been paying such a hefty sum of money for him to steal it, he might have kept it for himself.

This master thief –or so he called himself– had no code and was connected to no guild. He was simply a wandering man with no connection to any place in the world apart from perhaps the far-distant mountains in the Germanic Kingdoms to the far north... but that may have just been a rumor. He'd traveled all over the ancient world, through Rome, Alexandria, Carthage, and even to Mecca and Chang'an.

As Adrian pulled a bag from his satchel, he carefully lifted the amulet from its place on the altar and replaced it with a replica. Adrian hesitated as he placed the replica on the altar. It was good—perfect, even—but perfection didn't matter to the Archivists. They'd see through it eventually. He just needed to be long gone by then. Adrian rubbed his thumb over the edge feeling the cool metal of the amulet in his living hand before transferring it to his wooden hand. After gingerly slipping the amulet into his satchel, he strolled back down the steps to the altar and pushed open the grand doors. He was giddy with excitement about a heist well done only to be greeted by a horde of Archivists in snowy white robes pointing spears at him as he stepped out the doorway.

"Well, this is unexpected. A bunch a' newbie inductees; they sent you to catch me? Such a nice welcome." Adrian chuckled, smiling under the shadow of his hood.

The inductees were unamused and crept closer, closing off any chance of escape. A Herald, an Archivist who was only slightly more important than the inductees, stepped through the ring, his hood raised. One sleeve of the Herald's robe was a pure red; he'd definitely been through some of the blood rites.

"I see there've been some new hires," Adrian smirked. "Why don't we talk prices, eh?" He tossed a bag of gold in his right wooden hand, clearly quite a bit of coinage.

"If you think that will save you, you are sorely mistaken, thief."

Adrian placed a hand on his chest as if he was hurt. "I am no thief! I was simply admiring the architecture." His lie was obvious, laughable, but some of those present hesitated momentarily nonetheless. Even so, two of the Scribes took him by the arms, flanking him, their grip so tight it would probably bruise later. Adrian didn't struggle and went willingly, stumbling for a few paces before falling into step with the Scribes as if it were second nature.

"Roll out the red carpet why don'tcha," he grumbled under his breath. Part of him was terrified of the repercussions if he did fight back; the Archivists were known to take tenfold vengeance on those who hurt their members.

They marched him deeper into some of the tunnels shooting off from the main Library. Even the torches seemed dim here, dim enough that it made any guess of where exactly they were taking him very difficult.

I suppose that is the point, Adrian thought to himself.

Adrian was tossed unceremoniously into a cell, stripped of his cloak, satchel, and anything he could possibly use to escape. It was a crude cell with wooden bars rather than metal. He would know; he'd been in most of the prisons on the continent. There was a straw bed in the corner, though it was really more of a mat, and a pot for him to do his business.

"How quaint."