The library was quiet. The hustle and bustle of the outside world was still prevalent here, just quieter. Lamplight flickered down the aisles filled with well kept books and natural light filtered in through the huge windows that lined the walls. Rows of desks sat between the aisles which were populated with young men and women as opposed to the books around them. The sounds of pages turning and scratches, as well as hushed whispers made a slight buzz that was only broken by the sound of leather boots against the floorboards. When walking into the building for the first time, Maynard was overawed. The musty book smell, stern librarian in the corner organising books and even the chairs that looked more comfortable than they actually were. In Maynard’s eyes this library was the archetype of all libraries – the library that all other libraries dreamed of being.
He walked past the front desk, the librarian gave him an evil stare but did not talk to him, so he made his way deeper into the building. Walking through the aisles, he looked at the leather bound books and smiled. While he preferred videogames as a pastime, he had never grown out of reading, and the library was a place of comfort for him. As he looked through the various titles that were stacked up on the shelves, there were next to none that he had heard of. Some incredibly old titles he recognised; things like Frankenstein and compilations of poems by people like Poe or Byron, but the rest were things that he had never even comprehended. Hundreds of books he thought did not exist, or simply could never have imagined existing sat under the roof of this building, itemised and waiting to be found by anyone who wanted to look.
He followed the aisles deeper into the library, stopping to glance at each set of desks obscured by the bookshelves. Heads buried in books were what Maynard saw whenever he looked, but he did not see the distinctive copper ponytails of the two girls from the previous night, so he continued to walk. The further along he got, the more disappointed he became. It was beginning to seem like he had missed the girls entirely, but he kept walking through the library. As he reached the back he found himself before a roped off section. There were more bookshelves, but all the books gave off an ominous aura as if they belonged in the dark. He stared at the books beyond the roped barricade pondering whether he should step over and look at them when he felt a tap on his back and saw two young women with copper hair, brown dresses, and bags over their shoulders. One wore a pink bow in her ponytail and the other wore a blue bow. They both smiled at him and then the one in pink asked, “Have you been waiting long?”
“Not too long,” Maynard replied before pausing. “Winoa, why are you pretending to be your sister?”
The girl laughed and turned to her sister, “Lumber ken.”
“Shut, he’s no lumber yet,” the other girl replied before elbowing her sister in the ribs. “Owergie ma reebin, ya fanny. Did you sleep well, Ram?” She pulled the blue ribbon out of her hair and swapped it with her sister as she spoke, her red curls cascading out like water as she attempted to bundle them up and corral them back into some semblance of a ponytail.
“I slept well, what about you two? How were your rooms?”
“Rooms?” Winoa said derisively as she tied her hair up with the blue ribbon in a much more controlled manner than her sister, “What’s got you thinking we had separate rooms?”
“I mean I had a room to myself,” Maynard replied with a shrug.
“Lucky git,” the Scottish girl growled, “We have to share a room, though it is a spacious room.”
“Come on sis, it’s not like we aren’t used to it,” Ico interjected. Turning back to Maynard she continued, “We live together so it’s fine.”
“Aye, and I’ve had long enough to get used to this one’s snoring,” Winoa said with a laugh, which earned her a kick in the shin from her sister.
“I do not snore.”
“Sure you do, you’re just not awake to hear it. Anyhow, we should tell mister Ram here what our alpha mission is, no?”
Once all three of them sat down at the table the two girls looked at Maynard for a moment before Winoa began speaking, “Our task given to us by Kai was simple really, we have to find the magic symbol that served as the origin of the town. Simple right?”
“Sure, I guess.”
“Turns out it’s like looking for a needle in a haystack. We’ve narrowed it down to a single group of books. Probably,” Winoa paused, “Maybe,” She paused again, “We hope.”
“Alright, well what’s the starting point?”
“Anything by, for, or involving Andrew Illham,” said Ico as she put her bag on the desk, revealing a plethora of red leather-bound books with gold embossed writing on their spines.
“Andrew Illham,” muttered Maynard as he trawled the depths of his memory and something lit a spark, “I recognise the name…”
“You do?” asked Winoa as she put her own bag of books on the table.
“Yeah… He’s…” Maynard stopped and then barked with laughter as the , before being shushed by the twins and the other nearby patrons of the library, “Sorry, I just remembered something. Have either of you played the game ‘Silent City’?”
“No,” said the twins in unison.
“But I’ve heard of it,” said Winoa, “Some MMO that went for a mystery vibe right? Steampunk and ghoulies no?”
“Close enough. This is going to sound a bit weird but,” Maynard said before lowering his voice and ushering the girls in close, “Where we are now is either a world made in the image of that game, or the devs of that game used this world as a basis. I’m currently not sure which, and I’m about ninety percent sure we aren’t in the game itself – the stats and menu system is entirely different – but because of that game I know a lot more about this world than I should have any reason to, and especially Illham.”
“You’re aff yer heid,” whispered Ico, “There is no way that there is a game in our time that’s based on this place, surely.”
“Look, this sounds unbelievable, but you are talking to one of the foremost experts on this game. I have wasted a lot of time on it,” Maynard stopped and looked away, “Spent would probably have been a better word there.”
“Aye,” said Winoa, “It probably would.”
“My point is that I know Silent City, I know the ins and outs of the Tannerfield valley, and most importantly I know the lore about Andrew Illham himself. Now let me think.” Maynard began tapping his nose with his index finger. He thought for a full minute before finally saying, “Born the same year as Cromwell, Illham was raised by his parents and taught the Celtic mysteries. He had a love for nature and a love for learning. For most of his life he lived as a member of the petty gentry, but when he was in his thirties he decided to set up the college and the town near his old family home in Tannerfield. The man made sure to frame his school as puritanical to get the Lord Protector off his back, and the college itself became a safe-house for Catholics and pagans alike. Even when the old monastery burned down, he held strong. It’s rumoured that he saved the lives of hundreds because he built a network of tunnels beneath what would become Illham town that the people were able to hide and even live in.”
“That’s nice and all,” said Winoa, “But what about the origin spell?”
