Knowledge is Power.
Or at least that is what Grandmother had always told me.
Staring up at the mosaic of colored spines filling the shelved walls, a young man in loose fitting linen clothing perused the winding and twisting paths, his eyes flickering from the floor to the ceiling. His calloused fingertips flew over their leather-bound covers, not daring to land until the correct book was chosen. His young but drained facial futures were dulled by stress, his eyes seemed like their lights were slowly growing dimmer, drowning in pools of worry and doubt.
"Knowledge may be power, but why couldn't anyone make it something more convenient like wealth? These days, wealth is also power. So why would people waste their time with knowledge?" The youth sighed as he withdrew his hand, using it to massage the dry skin of his temples. "Ha. What am I saying? Knowledge is absolute. Even those with wealth can't accomplish anything in this twisted world without Knowledge. Just because wealth is a power in its own right, even if it is merely a component of power. That isn't to say it makes the burden feel any less real."
Profound contemplation was not a regular hobby of this young man, yet he felt like he was slowly drowning into the world of theory, losing sight of the bounds of his own reality.
"I really need to take a break." The young man consoled his overwhelmed mind, contemplating his recent past. "Once my mind is ready. That is when my hell will truly be decided."
The Youth returned to his nook in the colossal library, at a particular section where the endless collage of colored spines suddenly shifted to a hive full of wooden dowels covered in tightly wrapped and very aged paper. Dejectedly reaching across his table, or what remained of the table after being transformed into a miniature biome of books, scrolls, and dust bunnies.
He selected a few and slowly trudged into the paths outlined by hedges of wood and books. His sluggish arm rose, loosely holding an aged encyclopedia written in a forgotten language, standing on the very tips of his toes to place the ancient book to its shelf. Flashes of curses flooded his mind, cursing the evil deities that must have stolen all his height.
Granted, the youth wasn't tiny by any means, but of rather average stature. His hunched shoulders and poor posture only made him seem slightly shorter than average, but that was precisely his problem, 'Average'. While the youth couldn't really remember his parents, their vague silhouettes were etched into the very core of his mind. For both a modern man and a woman, they were quite tall and well built, while their only child was quite pitifully average.
"Warrior blood. What a joke. Grandmother sure did love filling my head with useless nonsense. What Warrior could be forged from this miserable body?"
The Youth's stride was not without its imperfections, with a slight hitch in his right step, his weak and thin legs were lacking in the healthy vitality a young man of his age should have. Yet, after working for many years in the absence of a caretaker, the youth's body was worn down by the pressure of societal struggles. Lack of food, lack of sleep, lack of water, and a lack of general rest plagued his flesh. It was only until recently, when one of the senior librarians finally took the young man in and allowed him to commit himself to his final preparations in exchange for helping maintain the facility.
Measured steps followed by a rattle of leather straps and iron chains echoed down the vast corridors. The swinging of a lantern was accompanied by the slight crackle of a flame eating away at a candlewick. Leather soles rapped across the massive stone tiles that laid over the library's foundation.
"Ah! There you are, Boy. Have you finally decided to clean up that hulking mess you've created? I was beginning to wonder if you were going to build a fortress and claim the grounds as your kingdom."
The Older man's sarcasm was neatly wrapped in his expressionless face, devoid of any tangible emotions. Except for his eyes, which were nearly hypnotic, seeming to swirl with a myriad of colors of his iris flowing into his pupils. Almost like a whirlpool of rainbow-colored fishes leaping over each other just to be drowned in the inevitable abyss. Remembering to not stare into the man's eyes too long, lest his soul be wrenched from his flesh, the young man's calm slate eyes scanned the rest of the Older Librarian.
'There is no way he was just a librarian…'
The Older man's soft brunette hair was combed back, with silver-gray tufts taking root from his sideburns, streaking like stars across the night sky. His broad shoulders were covered in the same flaxen colored linen, with only a collection of leather straps and chains hanging from them, holding up a treasure trove of bags full of books and scrolls. Below that unassuming linen robe however, was the tanned skin that looked like it had only seen the sun for years on end. Slightly weathered, the man's tanned skin was tightly wrapped around the base of a well-trained muscular system. In short, unlike the youth's ragged pale body, the Older man looked like the true heir of a warrior.
"Elder Caruse. I-Well, no. I did not intend to amass so many books. However, I believe that I am as prepared as I will ever be, so I have begun to clean up and prepare for my departure."
If the Youth could have looked at the eyes of his Elder, he would have seen a flash of emotion escape from its whirlpool. The elder scanned the body of the youth twice over, beginning to draw his breath to saying something profound, and instead paused and hesitated. Slowly pressing his lips together, he nodded, reaching into his robe.
"If you believe you are ready, then it is true." Pulling out a silver cord from his cloak, he reached out and offered it to the seemingly weak and tattered boy. "We can only be confident in our preparations. Because If one can not trust their own work, the pursuit of experiences will only lead to an uncomely death. However, no one survives the journey of life truly alone. One needs many things to find their path; Knowledge, Wealth, Strength, Skill, and Luck can only bring someone so far. What truly allows us to excel is our Allies, and through the combination of unique experiences, can various components of Power be harnessed."
Drawing a breath, both the Elder and the Youth studied the silver cord. One contemplating its future, the other its past.
"And so, I wish for you to take this with you. While I cannot follow you on your journey, having already begun walking my own path, I can still offer this to you. It is simply an instrument, with no memory of its own, but should you find its purpose and past… Well, you will learn the truth then."
His lips curling downward, the Youth's confusion permeated his voice. "Why can you not simply tell me?"
The Elder's stoic expression finally began to crumble as a grin formed from his lips, "Because only those who know its truth can wield it. If I had known its truth, I could not have given it to you."
The Youth's mouth was agape, disbelief covered every corner of his worn down face. "So you decided to give me a small rope? Do not get me wrong, I do not wish to be ungrateful, but I must admit… I think you have managed to waste a perfectly good speech…"
The Elder's grin blossomed into a smile, as laughter escaped his lips, rushing down the dimly lit corridors. After finally composing himself, this time wearing a slightly more aloof but still stoic expression, answered: "Ah, I can see how you would think such a thing. Well, I am a librarian, not a politician. It is only natural for it to seem that way. However, while this cord may seem like a mundane cord, it is anything but. The only unfortunate part is that I do not know its truth, but that is simply because I lack the ability to."
"However, you have yet to search and find the truths of the worlds that have not been written, those that lay in this library. That does not mean that you will not be able to find its truth. In fact, I am sure you will find it. Do you think these eyes are just for looks, Boy?"
"Uh, no sir. I mean, no Elder." Lacking a reason to turn down the cord, the youth received it, gingerly running his thumbs over the braided silver cables.
'Oh?'
The Elder's words were indeed true, it was not a simple ceremony cord. Each cable seemed soft to the touch, yet as tough as steel against his fingernail. Patterns seemed to be etched into every individual cable, however the pattern seemed unrecognizable. In fact, every observation the Youth made seemed fleeting and inconsequential. As if he noticed something unnatural, yet couldn't explain it.
'What an interesting artifact. I wonder how I will find out its truth? If the answers were laid in this library, surely the Elder would have found it already.'
"Thank you Elder, I will inform you of what I find."
"Good, that is all an incapable old man like me can hope for." Elder Caruse turned and began to take his leave; stopping just shy of the end of the lengthy shelf, he looked back at the frail boy. "Take Care, Valen."