The Great Archive sat at the city's heart like a patient predator, its broad steps worn smooth by centuries of scholars and petitioners. Pale stone walls rose high, lined with windows cut into narrow slits that let in light but kept out arrows — or escape.
Kael stood at the edge of the square, hood up, eyes tracing the building's defenses. Guards in bronze-and-green breastplates flanked the main entrance, each carrying a short spear and a sidearm. C-Rank (Mid), ~320 GP each. Not a threat one-on-one, but they weren't there to duel — they were there to slow intruders long enough for heavier ranks to arrive.
Beside him, Ryn tugged the strap of her crossbow case. "This is insane. You know that, right?"
"Insane is waiting for the Council to give us permission," Kael said. "By the time they agree, the hive will have roots in the palace."
Her lips pressed thin, but she didn't argue.
They crossed the square in the early afternoon bustle, moving with the casual pace of messengers. A courier with the right paperwork could pass through the front door without much trouble — and thanks to Dorrin's contacts, they had forged orders for "water route inspection."
The guards took one look, frowned, and waved them through.
Inside, the air was dry and cool, scented with ink, dust, and the faint mustiness of old parchment. Long rows of shelves stretched into the dim distance, each stacked with scroll tubes and leather-bound tomes. The sound of scratching quills echoed faintly from the scriptorium.
An archivist in grey robes appeared from behind a pillar, sharp-eyed and thin as a stiletto.Rank: C-Rank (Low), ~210 GP.
"You're early for the inspection," he said, voice a little too smooth.
Kael handed him the forged orders without a word. The man's eyes flicked over the paper, then back to Kael. "Water routes are in the Lower Annex. No one goes there without senior approval."
Ryn's tone was polite. "Then you can escort us."
The archivist hesitated. His eyes lingered a moment too long on Kael's left hand — the one with faint, darkened veins from overusing his absorption. Then he turned and led them down a side corridor.
The Lower Annex was colder. The light came from narrow windows high in the wall, leaving long shadows across the stone floor. Here, the shelves were older, wood gone grey with age. The archivist stopped before a heavy oak door bound in iron.
"The map you want is here," he said.
Kael didn't move. Something in the man's tone was wrong — too final.
Ryn noticed it too. Her hand drifted to her crossbow.
The archivist smiled faintly, then stepped back. "Good luck."
The door swung inward by itself.
From the dark beyond came a rustling — not of parchment shifting in a draft, but the whisper of many pages turning at once.
A figure stepped into the dim light. He wore robes darker than the archivist's, marked with ink stains that looked like blood. His face was half-covered by a mask of stitched-together parchment.
The Binder — B-Rank (Low), GP ~1,050.
"You're looking for maps," the Binder said. His voice was layered, as if more than one throat spoke at once. "But maps are only useful if you survive the journey."
The shelves around them shuddered. Books slid out, covers snapping open, pages whipping like wings. Scrolls unraveled midair, their ink bleeding into jagged black symbols.
Kael drew his knife. "Hive?"
The Binder tilted his head. "Hive… and more."
One of the airborne books dived at Kael's face, pages stiff as blades. He slashed through it, scattering paper like dead leaves.
[C-Rank (High) | GP: 685 + 5 = 690]
Ryn fired at another, bolt pinning it to a shelf.
The Binder raised both hands, and dozens of parchment ribbons unspooled from his sleeves, snaking toward Kael and Ryn. Kael ducked low, rolling under one and cutting another clean through. The parchment bled black ink, the smell sharp and acrid.
Ryn reloaded, firing at the Binder — but a wall of floating books slammed together, absorbing the shot.
Kael moved in fast, cutting through the paper swarm. "He's stalling!"
"For what?" Ryn called back.
The answer came as the floor trembled. From beneath the oak planks, thin roots pushed up, writhing, joining with the fallen paper in a pulsing, half-organic mass.
Kael's eyes narrowed. "So you are hive."
The Binder laughed, a dry rustle like pages turning in a dead wind. "The hive knows the past. The hive remembers."
He gestured sharply. The roots lashed out, coiling around Kael's ankle. Stonehide flared just in time to keep the barked edges from cutting deep.
Kael dropped low, severing the roots, then lunged for the Binder. The robed figure didn't try to dodge — he dissolved into a storm of loose pages, scattering across the room.
Kael's instincts screamed. He pivoted just as the pages re-formed behind him, the Binder's knife aimed at his spine. He caught the wrist, twisted, and slammed the man into a shelf.
The shelves toppled, scrolls spilling into the root-laced floor. Kael drove his blade under the man's ribs, feeling the gland burst.
[C-Rank (High) | GP: 690 + 20 = 710]
The Binder choked out a laugh, black ink bubbling from under his mask. "Too late… they already have the deep maps."
His body crumpled, dissolving into loose parchment that curled and burned to ash.
Ryn knelt by the largest fallen scroll. The ink was old, the lines faint — but clear enough. It showed the city not as it was now, but as it had been centuries ago, when the walls were smaller and the aqueduct network more sprawling.
Three sections of the tunnels were marked with red sigils Kael didn't recognize. None matched any current map.
"These could be root-heart sites," Ryn said.
"Could be," Kael agreed, "or worse."
Boots pounded in the hall. Guards — heavier steps, faster.
Kael rolled the map and stuffed it into his coat. "Time to go."
They slipped out through the annex's side passage, up a narrow stairwell that spat them into a small courtyard. From there, it was a short drop to the street beyond.
They didn't slow until they were back in the maze of the lower market, the Archive far behind.
Ryn glanced at him as they caught their breath. "If the hive has the other maps…"
"They'll be moving to protect those root-hearts," Kael finished. "Which means we can use that. Smoke them out."
Her eyes narrowed. "At B-Rank density?"
He grinned, though it didn't reach his eyes. "If we're lucky."
That night, Kael spread the map on his table, tracing the faded red sigils with one finger.
Three sites.
Three possible chances to cripple the hive.
And three certain invitations to walk into traps.
He smiled faintly. "Guess we start with the closest."