Chapter 163 - 158: The First Lesson
The room remained quiet.
Only the gentle scratching of Miriam’s tools against aged parchment disturbed the silence.
John watched with complete attention.
The elderly conservator held a thin strip of specially prepared paper between a pair of delicate silver tweezers before carefully laying it across a tear that had split an ancient manuscript nearly in half.
She didn’t rush.
Every movement was measured.
Every touch carried years of experience.
After several minutes, she finally leaned back.
"There."
She smiled with quiet satisfaction.
"Another century."
John blinked.
"...Another century?"
"If it’s cared for properly."
She carefully placed the restored manuscript onto a wooden drying frame.
"People often think preserving history requires dramatic discoveries."
She glanced at John.
"It doesn’t."
"Most days..."
"It means repairing one page."
"One tear."
"One broken binding."
"So that someone one hundred years from now may still read it."
John slowly nodded.
He had never considered that.
History wasn’t preserved by heroes alone.
Sometimes...
It survived because ordinary people quietly dedicated their lives to protecting it.
---
Miriam stood and walked toward one of the bookshelves.
Unlike the public collections downstairs, every shelf here held carefully labeled archival boxes instead of exposed books.
She selected one marked with faded lettering.
**Restoration Examples**
Returning to the table, she opened it.
Inside were several damaged manuscripts.
She pointed toward the first.
"What do you see?"
John leaned forward.
"The pages are torn."
"Good."
"What else?"
He looked closer.
"The ink is fading."
She nodded.
"And?"
He hesitated.
"The edges..."
"They’re darker."
"Smoke damage."
Miriam smiled approvingly.
"Exactly."
She gently closed the box.
"Every damaged book tells two stories."
"The one written inside..."
"And the one written upon it."
John frowned thoughtfully.
"I don’t understand."
Aldric folded his arms.
"Think about the smoke."
John looked back at the manuscript.
"If there’s smoke damage..."
"It survived a fire."
"Precisely."
Miriam continued.
"If pages are stained with seawater..."
"They likely survived a shipwreck."
"If insects damaged the edges..."
"The book spent years forgotten somewhere."
She looked directly at John.
"A historian reads the words."
"A conservator reads the scars."
The sentence lingered in John’s thoughts.
A historian reads the words.
A conservator reads the scars.
---
Aldric walked toward another cabinet.
From within, he carefully removed a long wooden case.
Unlike the others, this one was locked.
He produced a small bronze key from inside his robes.
The lock clicked softly.
John unconsciously leaned forward.
Inside rested a single scroll wrapped in dark blue cloth.
Its ribbon had become faded with age.
Even before opening it, Aldric handled it with extraordinary care.
"This..."
He said quietly.
"...is one of the oldest copies in our possession."
Miriam immediately moved closer.
Together, the two elderly scholars slowly unwrapped the protective cloth.
John noticed something unusual.
Neither of them spoke while handling it.
It felt almost ceremonial.
Once the scroll lay fully open upon the table, John understood why.
The parchment looked ancient.
Far older than anything he had seen downstairs.
The ink had faded to a deep brown.
Several sections had become nearly impossible to read.
At the very top...
An elegant symbol had been drawn.
It resembled a dragon coiled around a great tree.
John’s breathing slowed.
The image stirred something inside him.
Not a memory.
More like...
Recognition.
He couldn’t explain it.
It simply felt familiar.
Aldric noticed the subtle change in John’s expression.
"You recognize the emblem?"
John hesitated.
"I..."
"No."
"But..."
He searched for the right words.
"It feels..."
"...important."
The old scholar exchanged a brief glance with Miriam.
Neither spoke.
---
Aldric finally broke the silence.
"This scroll was recovered nearly three hundred years ago."
"From where?"
John asked.
"A ruined temple beneath the Ashen Peaks."
John’s eyes widened slightly.
"The same mountains marked on your map?"
"Yes."
Aldric nodded.
"The expedition recovered only a handful of artifacts."
"Most had already crumbled into dust."
John carefully studied the emblem again.
"Can I read it?"
"You may."
"But carefully."
John nodded.
He slowly moved closer.
Most of the writing had become too faded to decipher.
However...
One passage remained surprisingly clear.
> **"...When the balance of the world falters, the Seven shall gather beneath the Eternal Tree..."**
John quietly reread the sentence.
"The Seven."
He whispered.
"They’re mentioned again."
Aldric nodded.
"They are."
John looked farther down the scroll.
Another line remained partially intact.
> **"...Their covenant shall endure while the Heart yet beats..."**
The remainder had vanished beneath centuries of damage.
"The Heart?"
John asked.
"What does that mean?"
Aldric slowly shook his head.
"I don’t know."
"For over sixty years..."
"I’ve searched for that answer."
---
The room fell silent once more.
John looked at the weathered scroll.
Every answer seemed to create even more questions.
The Seven.
The Eternal Tree.
The Heart.
None of it appeared anywhere in the public records.
He finally looked toward Aldric.
"Why isn’t this downstairs?"
The old scholar sighed quietly.
"It once was."
John blinked.
"What?"
"Several centuries ago."
He carefully rolled the scroll closed.
"But repeated attempts were made to steal it."
John frowned.
"Why?"
"No one knows."
"Eventually..."
"The archivists decided the safest place for it..."
"...was somewhere few people would ever see."
---
Miriam carefully returned the scroll to its protective case.
"There is another reason."
She added.
"Ancient texts are dangerous."
John looked confused.
"Dangerous?"
"Not because they contain magic."
She clarified.
"But because people often see what they wish to see."
She folded her hands.
"A single sentence taken out of context has started wars."
John slowly nodded.
He understood.
Knowledge itself wasn’t dangerous.
Misunderstanding it was.
---
A soft knock interrupted the conversation.
Another librarian stepped inside.
"Master Aldric."
The young man bowed respectfully.
"The afternoon inventory has been completed."
"Excellent."
Aldric replied.
"Anything unusual?"
The librarian hesitated.
"There was..."
He glanced briefly toward John before continuing.
"A visitor requesting access to dragon-related archives."
John’s attention sharpened.
"A visitor?"
The librarian nodded.
"He claimed to be an independent scholar."
Aldric’s expression remained calm.
"His name?"
"Darius Voss."
Miriam frowned almost immediately.
"I know that name."
Aldric’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly.
"So do I."
John noticed the subtle change in the room’s atmosphere.
"What is it?"
The two elderly scholars exchanged another glance.
Finally...
Aldric answered.
"Darius Voss is indeed a scholar."
He paused.
"But..."
"He is also known for purchasing ancient relics from treasure hunters."
John frowned.
"Is that illegal?"
"No."
Miriam replied.
"But..."
"His interest rarely ends with preserving history."
John understood the implication.
"He sells it."
"Sometimes."
Aldric admitted.
"And sometimes..."
"He keeps it."
The old archivist walked toward the window overlooking the library gardens.
His thoughtful expression had returned.
"I had hoped..."
He murmured.
"...we would have more time."
John stood.
"You think he’s searching for the same thing."
Aldric didn’t answer immediately.
Instead...
He looked toward the distant skyline of Valenor.
Finally...
He spoke.
"I don’t believe in coincidence."
"Not when the Dragon Kings are involved."
Outside...
The bells of the Royal Library echoed across the Scholar’s District.
For the first time since arriving in Valenor...
John realized he might not be the only person searching for the forgotten history of the Dragon Kings.
And if others were searching...
The race to uncover the truth had already begun.
---
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