She struggles to the shore of an island, wind knocked out of her as she lands in the water from a height amidst a storm.

She's glad she knows how to swim.

She has no idea where she is right now and this is concerning.  What can she see?

In this storm - not much.

It's dark, thunder is growling and waves are pounding, though she can stay afloat. 

After a while, she can feel land under her. The sea has been merciful.

She's cold. There does appear to be some light, in the distance, higher than she is.

...Fine.  She lights her way with an Illusion, and heads for the light, staying on her guard for spontaneously appearing dangers.

Nothing spontaneously appears. She comes up before a steep cliff. There appear to be some paths, up, but it's not immediately obvious whether any of them are safe.

...Well.  She's glad she learned all the basic Sigil of Force repertoire, no matter how absurdly situational Weighted Stance is.  That, Haste, and the various spells of Vigor will see her safely up the cliffside paths, or keep her from disaster otherwise.

After she scales the cliffs (the spells were absolutely necessary), she's greeted by a small village of a few homes and two large buildings - one plainly labeled 'Old Rectory', and another, with an elaborate sign 'The Sweet Bones'. Light is seem through the windows of a few homes, as well as Sweet Bones.

She will be knocking on the door of the probable tavern, then, before disturbing any homes.  (...The strangeness of the construction causes questions - glass windows for random peasantry?  How?  She's getting the feeling she's not on Terratus anymore - but this can wait.)

The door is open, and inside is a warm, welcoming space. The patrons are less than welcoming, and all look at her suspiciously. No-one starts a conversation.

"I require a map, if you wish to be rid of me," the stranger in a tailored black formal robe (with yellow accents) declaims to the suspicious crowd, as she does - something - to cause water to run off it in puddling rivulets.

"Are ye with the New King?" someone shouts, and the others shush him.

"Look, we don't want any trouble," the bartender says "but with all due respect, I wouldn't go anywhere in this storm."

"Trouble may follow me here, depending upon various circumstances - but I sha'n't make any, on my honor and Kyros's name.  Not that I expect you've heard of him, if there's a 'new King'; Kyros is rather particular about being Emperor of Terratus in its entirety, so unless the name 'Occulted Jade' has meaning to you, I can only surmise that whatever strange magics threw me upon your shores have reached far beyond the world I know.  How many moons are there?"

"One, in the sky, and her mirror in the sea." 

"Haven't heard any of 'em words, but then 'am no wise man, me." the bartender answers. 

"Then I am certain that I cannot be upon the land of my birth, for around Terratus you would find two."

"Mmh."

"Frustrating, that; I had been dealing with something rather important and expect it to fall to bits without me.  Though perhaps Archon Ashe will pull something through in my memory.  He has his honor, and he did say he would back my bid for peace.  But enough reminiscing.

"Where have I found myself?"

"Brancrug Village, miss. Cornwall, Britain."

"And who rules, here?"

There are a lot of murmurs among the patrons.

"The New King, Henry the ninth. But we don't get many kingsmen here.

It's getting late, I can get a room for you, and you better talk to the rector tomorrow. He knows the stuff, I don't."

She nods.  "I would appreciate the chance to rest, though I expect I haven't proper money to repay you with, if that's how things work around here."

"Well, let's say, shelter from a storm in exhange for lack of troubles." he says, and leads her to a room, that looks like you would expect an inn room to look, if perhaps with unusually sturdy door and lock.

"I gave my word that I would make no trouble on my own; I sha'n't then trade upon the same premise, surely."  She seems almost offended by the concept.  "But goodwill for goodwill, that would be fair enough.  I'll work something out the morrow, should it be necessary."

She makes sure to lock the door, and discreetly ward the space.  Nothing dangerous, but she won't be caught napping if someone tries to be a danger to her.

Nothing tries to enter her room, or do anything else to her.

The storm clears up overnight, and the sun eventually rises.

And she awakens with it.

"Good morning.  It occurs to me that I have completely forgotten to introduce myself.  Ophelia Vaudelle, Fatebinder of the Court of Tunon, who is the Archon of Justice of Kyros's Empire - not that that matters in Britain.  My thanks, again, for the bed."

"Good moring. You're welcome." He doesn't volunteer his name.

"The Postmistress came by, said she wanted to see. It's to the right once you exit. Probably important."

"...Interesting.  I'll go speak to her."

And so she shall.

The post office is a small building, but is clearly labeled, and also notable by having a large pole with wires attached, running beyond the horizon.

When she comes in, the Postmistress regards her, and then gives her an envelope. "I believe it is for you."

The envelope is labeled 'The Librarian, Hush House, Brancrug Isle'.

"...Why?"

(...Those lines surely have a function; no-one would use that much metal on some decorative project.  And - hmm, she might well be able to sell her copper rings for something.)

"Strangers rarely come to this island. When they do, it's usually the buisness of the House. Yet the House stands abandoned for seven years. There is no Librarian at Brancrug, yet I receive a letter for them. And you come here the next day."

"..."

"I...see."

"I shall have to have a word with the place, then; it has been quite presumptuous, for all I've no better ideas for how to put my skills to use."

"You can't miss it." the Postmistress says, and turns to her work.

She'll just...read the letter, before she departs.  "Dare I ask, by the by, if it would be possible to reply to any such mysteriously-appearing letters in the manner they were received?"

Welcome

We are, in advance, sorry for potentially disturbing circumstances of your arrival at Brancrug. It is hard to find promising candidates now, and our method assured that a suitable person would read this letter, yet not much else.

We understand that you may be confused. Unfortunately, we cannot send a permanent representative to Brancrug, so you will have to rely on the locals. We will provice what financial assistance we can, though resources of the Trust are limited.

Let us know when you find your footing, and what other assistance we can provide.


Though much is taken, much abides.
- The Trustees

St. Rhonwen's Trust, University College, Singleton Abbey, Sketty, Swansea

"Write a reply, write an address, buy a stamp."

"I see.  Are there specific constraints as to the size or weight?  Or otherwise upon the form an acceptable message to post might take.  And how much for a stamp?"

"A penny for a letter like this. More for big or heavy things."

Inside the envelope there is also a piece of paper that appears to be currency. 'Ten shillings'.

"I see.  Well.  I shall have to buy a stamp, then."

She has some concerns.

"Also something to write a letter upon, I believe."

"But that is not particularly time-sensitive, and I imagine you've much to do of a morning.  I've other conversations I ought to have."

The Postmistress does not acknowledge any of those statements.

Ophelia finds herself vaguely concerned by this.

"Madam Postmistress?"

"Do you need anything from me?"

"There are things I believe I need, and things I want, and a deep uncertainty as to how much any of those are within your remit, let alone the matter of whether I dare bother you with them.  At the moment I do believe you are my best chance of finding writing supplies, though; I've ink, but I doubt you charge a penny to post scrolls, and I'm certain my quill will never be the same after my involuntary oceanic immersement."

"Post office is not a store. Someone in the village might help, and the House should still have its writing supplies."

She nods.  "Then I sha'n't bother you further; my thanks for your help."

She has the Rector(?) to inquire with - and then the house.

If she knocks on the Rectory's door, an older woman will open it.

"Hello. Who are you? What's your buisness?"

"Apparently, the new Librarian of the Hush House."  There is a wry, self-effacing twist to the declaration.  "Washed up in the storm last night, from far beyond where I ought to have been, and the barkeep said I ought to inquire here about orienting myself to local politics."

"Librarian, huh. Seven years. Always seven... Well, come in. I'm Terrance. Please, don't get Timothy in trouble with the New King, I'm not sure the village will survive another raid. I'll go get him."

"I would greatly prefer to not entangle myself with the affairs of Archons; I've had quite enough of that in my prior position.

"Always seven years?  That seems significant.  -- Always a Librarian?"

"Always seven everything, can't describe it, but you'll notice eventually." Terrence says, and invites her to sit in one of the rooms.

Eventually, a younger man comes in. "Hello! Hello, welcome, nice to meet you. I'm Timothy, Rector of Brancrug! Terrence, can you get us some tea? Do you want tea?"

"...Oh, I do not like that hypothetical omnipresence of sevens."  That reeks of deep and dangerous shit.  The sort of thing a lingering Edict causes, or who knows what else.  But then why a Henry the Ninth as King?  "It seems that if I am not going to the Archons, they will be coming to me.  Blast it.  I had hoped, for a moment, to be done."

(Rector Timothy can probably overhear that bit.)

"...Fatebinder Ophelia Vaudelle, recently acclaimed Librarian of Hush House by dint of mysteriously-arriving letter and the overall narrative bent of my arrival yesterday, what with the inclement weather.  ...I believe I'd appreciate whatever hospitality would permit, but please do not put yourself out on my account.  No matter my apparent position."

"Oh, it's no trouble at all" Terrence says, and goes, presumably, to make tea.

"Nice to meet you, miss Ophelia. The Trust finally picked a Librarian? Good. The House being abandoned isn't right. Did you know, it existed in some form for a thousand and a half years? Possibly more. Hasn't been empty ever since the Curia came, more than a hundred years ago. Archons?"

"You wouldn't recognize the term or the position, I expect; I'm near certain that my homeland is - presently unreachable by conventional means of travel.

"The Curia?  And, is it always a Librarian who is appointed?"

"It's what Curia called the position, they've managed the house for hundred and fifty years at this point, though for the last forty they've shared with Supression Bureau... Founded by three scholars who acquired the House a few decades after Dewulf line ended, they've expanded and shrunk over the years."

"The...Suppression Bureau."

That is not an organization she likes the sound of.

"Better than the Nocturnal Branch, at least. Not good people, but I guess somebody got to keep night-things in the night, so that day-things can walk in day. The Curia got some sort of understanding with them, I think. They didn't bother the House very much, even when they were here. Besides taking the Crucible Tower, that is." 

"I am going to hate this job with a passion and yet with every bit of information I learn about what I'm expected to be doing, I find myself increasingly obliged to take it.  Bloody forbidden knowledge.  Trouble enough with that in my last job and you don't - can't - even have proper organization about it, not that lasts, let alone any sort of established principles as to what dangers lie where; I can't fucking imagine the disasters I'm going to find when I pull the curtain up.  And no doubt mending them will be foisted upon me, because nobody with power tries caring.  Speaking from some experience.

"Right.  If I might beg a moment to note some things down, speaking of looming threats of disaster."

Timothy is taken aback by the rant. "Of course, of course."

"...Ah.  Please do excuse my..."  She waves a hand, vaguely.  "I was dealing with high-stakes diplomatic negotiations, with more lives on the line than anyone should be comfortable with - including my own, though I cannot say I had any right to care when I was the chosen, if unwilling, instrument of placing the executioner's blade at all our throats - and immediately at the point one of the parties gave up all pretense of being a party one could hope to treat with, I washed up here.  I'm - a bit high-strung.  Nonetheless, letting that out on you was quite impolite of me.  My apologies, in other words - for what little they're worth."

And into a little waxen diptych, after she, with some frustration, smooths out one panel, goes:

Investigate legal status of Curia - and Library itself - re: Suppression Bureau; obligations, debts owed, considerations offered.  Crucible Tower: What is it?  Why do they want it?  Do they still have a claim?

Legal status of Librarianship: What power does the position hold?  Appointment and dismissal authority, if any, held by whom?  Contracts?  Bindings?  Sign nothing, though the spell may well have already seized.

WARD PROPERTY.

"No offense taken. Sounds exhausting."

Terrence comes in with tea, and Timothy starts drinking it.

"Oh, it is.  But it needed doing, if I wasn't going to have - so much innocent blood on my hands, by my own inaction.  So I did it.  Because at least that way if I had failed I would have tried."

And then, the tea; it settles into her hands like a lifeline.

"Thank you, Terrence, and Rector Timothy for the offer of hospitality; I believe I may have needed this much more than I knew.

She'll just...take a minute.

And when she has - taken her moment of peace and quiet and a warm beverage shared with, if not friends, then hopefully allies in keeping this town safe -

She returns to business.

"I came here for multiple reasons; one was to acquaint myself with the situation, but another -

"I heard there was some trouble with the king's men, a while back; I heard you were the one that had to deal with it.

"I would prefer to keep the town - the people - out of trouble, no matter what auroch dung I'm caught up in.  Have you any advice?  And I'll admit that I'm curious what past Librarians have gotten up to, if you know, or know who'd know, though that's not as pressing."

"Ah yes, the New King... Right after the Restoration, six years ago, his men came here, looking for, ah, 'enemies of the crown'. They found some, Brancrug was always a sanctuary, but with the House abandoned, and many people leaving after the fire, we couldn't really defend them. They haven't bothered us since then, and I don't know what would attract their attention, or what to do if they come."

"Oh, I can tell you a lot about past librarians! Though, I don't know how it all works from the inside, you'll need someone from the Curia for that, but I've studies the history of the House, and it'd be an honor to share my studies with you."

"What sort of enemies does the Crown make?  Purely so I can be certain that they aren't safely hidden away from whoever comes looking, I'm sure you understand."

"And I'd be equally honored to receive your studies, and perhaps archive them in the Library myself."

"Anyone who critizes the King in a way they don't like, or the new policies, or that 'Royal Endeavour' the King has going on. Or anyone who his men don't like."

"I can certainly get my notes, but there's indeed quite a lot there - thousand and a half years of history for the House in general, and hundred and fifty even just since Curia took posession. You'd be... Twelfth Librarian of the Curia of the Isle, before that there were six Barons Brancrug, and one Baroness, and before them there were many Abbots and Abesses, hard to say how many exactly."

"...Ah.  I expect there will be trouble, then.  That policy itself is one that I muchly mislike.  Rule - must bind the ruler, to mean anything.  And this...

"This so-called 'rule', does not.  Kyros's Law at least straightforwardly declares that Kyros has the right to kill you out of hand, and prescribes limits on that...'right'.

"What's this 'Royal Endeavour', anyway?  What policies are new?"

"...A thousand and five-hundred years; goodness.  Kyros's reign has lasted for slightly less than half that time.  I'll have quite some reading to do."

"Well, theoretically there are limits on his power, the parliament, and various charters, but he has a lot of support, he did save the kingdom from constitutional collapse..."

"I'm not sure what Royal Endeavour is, exactly. We're quite far from the capital after all. But it's some sort of industrial project that the King is spending a lot money on."

"The policies I'm most familiar with are Church politics, technically all kings have been supreme governers of the church, but they usually didn't get involved, but the New King has been rather active."

"Yes, well.  The theory is so much weaker than my own that I fear to contemplate the depths of its practice.  And - did you say the King is bound by a constitution like guilds are?  I am simultaneously deeply intrigued by the possibilities, and very suspicious of its enforceability.

"...Why on earth does he need to embezzle like that?  If he can't tell anyone what the project is, enough that you, a fairly intelligent person, who knows of it in the first place, are unable to know its barest nature when it's being touted as some grand accomplishment -

"That's a clear sign someone's doing something positively atrocious with resource expenditures.

"I know I've seen enough of it; a lot of my casework was dealing with such matters.  Auditing granaries, arranging harvests and field blessings - everything to do with the Forge-Bound and their supplies -

"...It frustrates me, that I am the one who was chosen for this duty, when I know there are dozens more qualified than I for any single facet of it.

"But only I am here, so I will do my best.

"...You have a state religion?  Kyros was...rather against organized worship, even of Kyros - there were laws about Kyros being the Overlord's name and neither slandering it nor casually invoking it, but not about worship - so that's very strange to me.  ...I am not going to explain why Kyros was so against religion, at this time, so please refrain from asking."

"We do, the Church of the Unconquered Sun, I am, actually, a priest. It exists all throughout the world, though during the Reformation, when there was a lot schisms, England's church separated from the rest of the world, that's when the king was given supremacy over the church."

"You aren't the first librarian to be upset with the position. Strathcoyne, the fourth, was quite unhappy with having to do it. And Blackwood, the tenth, though that was mostly about the Bureau. I've never quite understood how Curia selects the Librarian, but they have many times claimed 'absence of suitable candidates'."

"Quoth their letter, they ensured they'd find a suitable candidate this time at the expense of all else.

"What is the doctrine of the Church of the Unconquered Sun, exactly?"

"'The Sun gave us sight and mind, all the Glory's gifts. In His House, one with His many selves he dwells. Though divided, one day, shall He be reborn in all His Splendour, and guide us into Glory, where will we forever dwell'."

...She looks like she has bitten into a lemon.

"...I do not expect I'll convert."

"Well, I won't let that get between us. Brancrug has always been a refuge for all the world might consider impure."

"And may it ever be."

"Oh, I just remebered, I think I still have the spare key to Keeper's Lodge. I should probably get it for you." he says, and goes rummaging on one of the shelves in the room.

"Keeper's Lodge?"

"A small lodge next to the House proper, where groundkeeper lived."

She nods.  "Does the house proper have a key of its own, or is it some sort of magical relic effect?  Or...whatever you have."

"There is a key, though I'm not sure where it is. Last one forged by Serena Blackwood herself, and people say it always find the Librarian, though I'm not sure what that means."

"Right.  Key's magic, that works."

Her hand snaps out to grasp the manor key, but it does not show up.

"...Apparently insufficiently so.  I suppose I'll have to fix that, when I have the chance."

(She knows how Archons work.  She will make her story bend to her will.)

"Ah, here it is!" Timothy exlaims, pulling out a small box, and opening it to reveal a key. 

"For the Keeper's Lodge?"

She'll carefully secret it away in one of her many pockets.

"Yes. It's right past the bridge. Oh, I'd advise to be careful on the bridge, hasn't been maintained since the fire."

"The fire, you say."

...She's going to have to rederive Preservation, isn't she.  For goodness' sake.

"It's not as dramatic as it sounds, though still quite dramatic. Only Crucible Tower was actually on fire, but it was a very large fire, and everyone in the House fled. Both Collers, the Governer sent from the Bureau, and van Lauren, eleventh librarian, are presumed dead in the event."

"...Librarian is not a job that leads to peaceful retirements, is it."

Well.  She was going to have to become an Archon or a Spire-Keeper to survive Vendrien's Well and the Edict of Execution as things were.  That wouldn't be peaceful either.

"Not always. Mazarine, Strathcoyne, Brulleau, Greene, possibly Levinsen, depending on how you count, Blackwood, all retired peacefully. But things do tend to happen around Librarians, that is for sure."

"Well.  I'd hate to get bored.

"Is there anything else it is important that I know?"

"van Lauren was known for his forbiddings, the closing of ways, I'm not sure whether he placed any on the House, but wouldn't be surprised. Other than that, can't think of anything."

She adds

Edict of Opening?

to her to-do list.

"My thanks, Rector Timothy, for your time, your knowledge, and your tea.  It has been a pleasure meeting you and Terrence."

"Thanks to you too, Fatebinder Ophelia. May Hush House prosper again under your management. I'll collect my history notes for you."

"May your works prosper."

And now, she has a house to approach.

The House is rather obvious. The bridge is a bit dilapidated, but not really a challenge compared to navigating the cliffs during a storm. Keeper's Lodge stands near its end.

That's nice.

She's going to the front of the House proper, however.  There's rules to these things.  (And she has just enough hubris to prefer to not reside in the groundskeeper's abode of her mansion.)

The Great Gate stands before her, locked. Above it, are five inscriptions, in the same style but different languages. The one she can read says "BOOKS ARE THE MEMORY THAT DOES NOT DIE". The keyhole is rather large.

It's already miracle enough that she knows the one; she'll have to look into the others.

...The key has not, technically, yet entered into her possession.

But that does not need to stop her.

The faint sense of something waiting within her did not fade when she was cast from Terratus.

And while she believes that in the 'normal' course of events it would have germinated upon the claiming of a Spire...

She can claim a Library as well.

She remembers the shape of the magic well enough, for all that the Edict is not truly the key as much as her own legend, yet unformed.

And so she proclaims, as she traces an invocation of the Sigil of Force, which some call the Sigil of the Spires of Terratus themselves:

"Hush House of the Isle of Brancrug, you have summoned me to serve as your Librarian.  You have dared presume upon and interfere with my duty as a duly invested Fatebinder, who is called to serve impartial Justice unto conflicts irreconcilable.  For far lesser offenses have lives been rendered forever forfeit by Tunon's Court.

"But I am not only a Fatebinder - and it is by the assumption of my Archonate, of powers that could well be equal to Kyros Themself, that I choose to claim you and show mercy.

"It is evident that a Spire of Terratus you are not.  But the Edict I last spoke has shown me the shape of a claim to be made, and so I make it."

She thrusts her hand forward, Sigil invoked, and twists the lock open from meters away.

"And an Edict I so declare, that I, Fatebinder Ophelia Vaudelle, shall take unto myself command of Hush House, as forfeit for this presumption, until I see fit to uncoercedly release it.  So I have declared, and so shall it be."

The force of her declaration meets the outer Threshold of the House, and the power that waits at it. For a second it even seems to halt, yet then it continues, for it is the nature of that power to permit passage when passage is to be permitted. The lock clicks, and the gate opens to the inner yard. The gardens are heavily overgrown, but the pats between then are accessible, leading to two of the towers (one with a broken glass roof), and to the central building.

Do either of the towers seem to be obviously the Crucible Tower?  Though, at the moment, she's less 'exploring and collating information' and more 'clearing the grounds of any obvious nastiness'; she's still on combat alert.

None of them look like charred wrecks. Most of the grounds seems to just be overgrown, with weeds and vines of various thorniness levels, though there's a faint buzzing coming from one of them.

...Buzzing like bees or buzzing like the smell of a lightning strike?

Like bees. 

Oh, wonderful; honey is a positive delicacy.  She hopes she can maintain it.

A cursory review of the buildings for obvious hazards seems merited at this time; after this, she will be seeking paper and ink.

Looking around and through the windows is slightly complicated by overgrowth from the gardens, but if she's determined, she can see into the entrance hall, and a few other rooms, though curtains block the view of others. They're all in rather poor condition, but nothing obviously dangerous, though the air around the stairway looks slightly weird.

When she opens the door, the echo of her declaration can be felt around the room. The door welcomes her.

Entrance hall is a room of white marble, that was probably beautiful once, but now is covered with thick layer of dust. On pedestals and recesses there are statues and busts, small paintings hang on the wall, some not very level, a fireplace stands silent and dark. 

D'aw, thank you, House.

"...Thank you.  You did not have to accept me, or want me.  But insofar as you are something that is capable of being done right by...

"I am bound by my commitments to the principles of peace, prosperity, and equity, more than even the Law I swore to enforce under Kyros.  And for all those under my aegis - which you are - I shall ensure their well-treatment to the fullest of my ability.  It would reflect poorly upon me to neglect my duties, after all.

"Let's get you cleaned up, shall we?"

She'll leave the stairway for later, and focus upon the ground floor.

"At the moment, I expect the path to this to route through the Curia, for which I shall likely need letter-writing materials to inform them of who has taken the Librarianship into her own trust; if you've opinions on this matter, I would hear them, as best I can."

...She's not actually expecting there to be a response - if there is a mind incarnate here, it's very quiet - but she will not neglect someone because they're not obvious.

No response. 

The room containing the stairway is also the room that has passages to all the others, so she will have to go through it if she wants to explore the rest of the building.

And it has the slight distortion to it?

She'll take a closer look with her magic senses, maybe even poke it with a modification of the 'touch' Sigil.

There's certainly magic in the room, of protective nature. It seems to be focused further up, but small amount of it does fill the room.

Ah, wards.  Unless they look like they're going to bite her, she can leave them alone for now.

They're limited to the room, but hard to tell beyond that, there's no structure she's used to.

Interesting; she'll have to take it apart and figure out how that even happened sometime, let alone what it properly does - but right now, she's looking for stationery, not doing magic research.

There doesn’t seem to be anything qualifying in the room. 

...and anywhere else on this floor?

Would require going through the warded room, even if avoiding the stairway.

Yes, she is, at the moment, willing to risk that.

The air in the room feels thick, and her steps cause ripples in the magic, but if she avoids the stairway, she can slip to another room.

The room is clad with wood, and contains does a contain a desk and a stack of paper. As well as a bookwheel, a lectern, and shelves, filled partially with books.

Wonderful.

...Well, rippling magic is...fine.  Magic trying to hurt her is not fine.  Thick air...She'll have to figure out what the fuck later, but right now she has a letter to write to certain overly presumptive University Trustees.

(Also she is going to briefly survey the shelves, on general principle.)

The titles she can read are as follows:

— "Collected Hush House Lectures", A.P.
— "Apollo and Marsyas"
— "Ambrosial!", A.W.
— "An Almanac of Entrances", W.H.
— "Notes on Binding", G.D.
— "Stolen Histories", A.S.
— "The Treatise on Underplaces", C.H.
— "Advice on Containment", T.B.
— "The Moon's Egg", T.
— "The Alloy of the White Rose", white flower in place of initials
— "The Three and The Three", sun in place of initials

Four books have titles in unknown languages.

There's also three... wheels of metal on one of the shelves? They don't seem to have writing on the side.

An envelope is prepared, in the same form as the envelope she received.

Her name is not placed upon the envelope's return address.

Dear presumptive representatives of the Curia,

    I hope you know that no soul capable of reason would extend trust to you sight unseen, merely upon the, let us say, fortuitous coincidence, of a letter arriving amidst tumultuous events, even if they are quite hard to explain otherwise.

    I do not intend to trust you until I have had a chance to verify what I have learned, and will learn, of your nature and intentions, myself.  However, we do seem to have a desire to preserve lore in common, and on this I believe we can cooperate.

    If you have other goals, or friends, or enemies, now is your chance to preach to me of them.  I will be quite annoyed if I must topple another Archon, but even moreso if I find out only after they have made that need apparent.

 

    (That is not to say that you have much hope of stopping me, should I find it necessary to do so.  I have injured the invincible and outwitted the omniscient even as a mere mortal; a city fell by my hand, as have multiple Archons been laid low.  I have bent the world to my will with no more than my will and my words - a feat previously reserved for none other than the Overlord of Terratus, who inaugurated Her rule with the Edict of Storms laid upon Medrev, and soon after spoke the Edict of Dust over the world entire.)

 

Sincerely,

    -- Fatebinder O. Vaudelle of the Empire of Kyros, Archon of Archons, Master of Terratus Entire,
       Representative Plenipotentiary of the Court of Tunon, Archon of Law and Justice,
       In her own right an Exarch Ascendant,
       Governor Emeritus of the Provinces of Azure, Viridian, and the Stone Sea,
       Proclaimant of the Edict of Stone and the Edict of Execution,
       By popular acclaim entitled Stonemelter, for defense of the people against the Archon Cairn,
       And Librarian in residence at the Hush House of the Isle of Brancrug.

...She forgoes properly signing it, because who knows how magic works here - certainly not her - but she does seal it, with sealing wax and everything.

...Really, she should have first skimmed the books before writing a threat she's unsure of her ability to follow through upon, but she would hardly have dared half as much as she had, was she properly accounting for uncertainty, and look at her past successes.

...She's going to skim the books before she sends this, though.

...Starting with "Advice on Containment", "Notes on Binding", and "Collected Hush House Lectures", specifically; she'll branch out to "Stolen Histories" if she has time before she needs to acquire sustenance.

Advice on Containment, Thirza Blake: promises "ways to keep Wood-things out of trouble, and Mansus-things in it", talks a lot about vessels and mirrors.

Notes on Binding, Gideon Dewulf: Equal parts medicine and tailoring, with uncharacteristic amount of mentions of "history" for either of those fields.

Collected Hush House Lectures: Records of guest lectures given by Arun Peel, mostly various historical events. "Worms" are a persistent theme throughout, and "History" appears contrasted to "Eternity" in many passages.

At this point, she should probably consider acquiring sustenance.

She will have to leave through the warded room, of course.

Oh, blood and fire, of course it's mystery cultists.

She takes notes.  Factual notes, non-obfuscatory notes.  She has the paper for it.  Each Item Worth Capital Letters gets a page - so that's one for Mansus, one for Woods, one for Histories (Secret?), one for Worms, one for Eternity.  ...Hmm, she should document organizations, too.  Curia, Suppression Bureau, "Nocturnal Branch" as a subset of this?, and she is pretty sure that the Church is a front.  It writes the same way.

This is going to be irksome.

Anyway.  She needs lunch.  She has 10s.

...She will be going back to the tavern to spend it, unless she finds a fruiting tree.  (Farm blessings - of the Sigil of Life - when concentrated into a single plant, can produce quite a marked growth, though it takes something from the land - she never did have the time to figure out precisely what, Forge-Bound style - to repeat this trick with the same plant repeatedly.)

Magic in the stairway room reacts more to her presence this time, but she can still slip through.

She can try looking for a fruit tree in the (overgrown) gardens, but it's going to be a challenge of its own.

...Reacts how?

(Mmm.  She's no wilderness woman and she's in her formal robes; she will not be doing such activities until she has better clothing for it.)

Hard to say exactly, but its presence seems to gather in the air just around her, though nothing non-magically observable happens.

After passing the room, she can make it to the Sweet Bones without incident.

She doesn't actually expect it to be malicious; the House is hers.  She's just keeping on guard.

Anyway.  The Sweet Bones.

"Afternoon.  The manor's gotten rather overgrown over the last while; if I had the funds I'd want to hire a groundskeeper for it, being as I am not well-suited for such labors myself, but at the moment I've ten shillings and precisely no expectations of income per se.  What's for lunch?"

The barkeep greets her "Good day. I hear you've been named Librarian, right? Right out of a storm and into the House. Congratulations, I guess.

Well, in autumn, some farmers and orchard-keepers usually come to sell their wares, you might try asking one of them to stay. As for income, there's always someone around here who needs help and is willing to pay. We're a small village, and there isn't really a school, so not everyone knows their letters and numbers. And something always needs mending or just an extra pair of hands for something.

Good morning catch today, so we're making a starygazy pie!"

"I have, despite my doubts that I can trust the current benefactors of the position - or anyone interested in the Library, really - farther than I can throw them, decided that I shall tend the House, at least.  Someone must, and I can."

"...I can certainly teach reading, writing, and arithmetic; they are very useful skills.  Perhaps I'll set the Keeper's house to it, for this first while.  There's much in the manor that needs careful tending yet, lest someone get hurt; it's rather not a place for children."

"Folks are wary of the House, yeah, especially after the fire. Though I hear it was less so befure the Bureau came in. Good luck to you with tending it. Not sure if people'll be willing to treck the bridge, it is, in addition to being imposing, in rather poor condition."

"I'll get it fixed up somehow.  Can't be worse than the cliffs, really.  Do put the word out, though; I'm willing to come to town, it's just I haven't a clue where to put a class."

"Might ask Denzil for help. He's the village smith, doesn't talk much, but does good work. Until then, you can also just help some people with whatever problem they have at hand, there's bound to be some here.

What about that pie?"

"Please."

"How much for?"

Denzil the smith.  She is already reminded of the Forge-Bound who lasted, instead of burning out, by the notable traits of his description.  Perhaps she'll have something to teach him, for all that she's no master of forgebinding.

"Two pence apiece." after a short pause "A shilling is twelve pence."

"Ah, thank you.  I'll start with the one piece, then."

Paper money.  What an interesting concept.

"Here you go." he hands her back change - coins, of various sizes (3 half-crowns, a florin and two tuppences), and gets a piece of a pie - with a fish head sticking out of it.

She looks at the pie.  The pie looks back.

Her impromptu staring contest doesn't last, though; she has business to attend to, and therefore pie to eat.  "My thanks for the recommendation of the Rector, yesterday, for an informative discussion, and Denzil now.  You know this village's people quite well, and I cannot hope to replicate such knowledge on my own.  Which way's the smithy?"

"You're welcome. It's on the outskirts of the village, here" and he explains directions.

And, her pie finished and her plate sent back, she heads there.

She can hear sounds of a forge from within the building, but if she knock, she doesn't get an answer.

She's not in a hurry.  She'll wait til she hears quenching, or the fire being put out.  Then she'll knock again.

Door opens, and a scarred, bald man in apron looks at her. Doesn't say anything.

"Afternoon.  Tavern-keep pointed me your way.  I've taken up the House.  I'm thinking about setting up the manor's groundskeep's house as a classroom, teaching reading, writing, and mathematics, at least for now - but the bridge is fucked, and I probably ought to get it fixed up anyway.  ...I've also got some refined metal on me that isn't doing me any more good in my pockets.  Copper, bronze, weapon iron."

She didn't flinch.

"Have enough work. Iron?"

"Mhm."

In the form of strings of rings, produced from a pocket like a conjurer's trick.

"Not sure you'd know what just came out of my mouth if I told you what the people who smelted this told me about it, since they hardly did - but it's the good stuff.  Not too much coal, like the usual way gets you."

He takes the rings, inspects them, nods. 

"Steel and two shillings for the bridge."

"Sure."

A fair trade.

"...blood and fire, what sort of money..."

A half-crown?  A florin?  Not two tuppence; that's only a third of a shilling.

"Didn't know you had a name for that.  It's good to be able to differentiate."

"I know a few tricks the Forge-Bound smiths back home used to elevate their works' quality, if that's something you're interested in learning.  Dangerous to mess up, but effective."

He takes a florin, doesn’t comment on the rest. 

"Hour to prepare."

"Should I wait here, or at the bridge?"

"Bridge."

"I'll meet you there.  If I'm not there I have probably gotten caught up discussing something schooling-related with the Rector."

He nods and closes the door. 

She heads to the Rector's building.  (And knocks.)

Terrence opens the door "Oh, Ophelia, hello. Come in."

"Good morning, Terrence.  I've heard that there are people in need of an education in this village, and I'd like to do something about that - so I figured I'd ask the Rector for some advice on who, how, and where would be most suited.  And if there are any standard instructional texts, for that matter."

"Oh, Timothy'll be delighted. I'll go get him."

Eventually Timothy comes into the room, carrying a stack of papers.
"Ophelia, hello! I've got my notes for you!"

"Many thanks.  I've had the thought that the House really ought to have an income, and settled upon teaching reading, writing, and arithmetic as the best way to bring that about; I'll need the money now and surely a hypothetical next inhabitant ought not find their new abode in such a deplorable condition - not that I intend to depart from it with anything resembling haste.  Or untimely death; I'm given to understand such things happen."  By dint of all the prior inhabitants being fucking mystery cultists, she doesn't say.

(Ophelia Vaudelle's disdain for organized religion is only outmatched by her loathing of disorganized religion.  Mystery cults intentionally occlude everything from everyone, and she's had plenty of time to get frustrated, chasing down their tax obligations, over the years.)

"Oh, that would be useful. I tried to do that sometimes, but I'm not the best teacher."

"I can't say I've taught this particular sort of lesson before, but the mages I trained were generally satisfied with their lessons.

"...Speaking of arcana, though, I find myself curious if you've ever had the thought that the language employed by your faith is - strangely similar to the vast majority of the Library's books on occult subjects.  I may have not gotten through most of them myself, but I'm detecting a pattern.

"...But that is hardly relevant to the matter which brought me here; I want to make classes I teach convenient to the town, and while I could do up the Keeper's house for it, I'd rather not have to - it's better used for other things.  Do you perhaps know or have somewhere I could put them?"

"Ah, yes, Solar teachings go back quite a long time - I think most people who care about that sort of thing do recognize them. They add their own of course - fishermen pray to gods of the sea, miners to gods underground, and scholars - to everyone they could find. Never could get the snakes thing, though, but almost everyone has their opinion on snakes, even the church."

"I don't think doing it in Keeper's Lodge would work, the bridge is quite intimidating for people. I'd be happy to provide space in the church, or if you'd consider it inappropriate, maybe here in the rectory, though the church is better suited for many people."

"I'm getting the bridge fixed up, but I quite agree.

"I'd like to take a look at the church, before deciding which place suits?"

"Of course. It's a short walk, do you want to do it now?"

"I've nothing hugely pressing; I'm getting the bridge fixed but that's an hour away or so."

"Welll then, should we?" he takes a coat, and shows her the way to the church - a small building on the outskirts of the village, accompanied by the small graveyard.

...The graveyard is actually quite intriguing to her, but right now she's going to look at the inside of the church, and determine its suitability for teaching within.

It has a large central room, with sitting space and good acoustics.

One large windows points west, which would probably give a good look at the sunset in the evening. A symbol consisting of two crossing planks embedded in a circle is present multiple times.

"...I believe it would work reasonably well for certain sorts of classes, like math - but if anything, the sound quality is too good.  People often learn to read by sounding out words letter by letter, and that's going to be hard when a dozen others are also doing thus."

"Hm, indeed. Don't know another place spacious enough for a lot of people, unfortunately."

"Maybe it should be smaller groups for that anyway.  Have them working together on it..."

"...What times are already spoken for, by the way?"

"Dawn, noon, and sunset are when the services are, though not all three every day."

She nods.  "I can work within that constraint, I think.  ...Do you have anyone minding the children during them already?"

"Not everyone comes to services, so there's usually someone to leave them with. I think, Mrs. Kille does often."

She nods.  "If it's convenient for the church, I certainly don't see why I couldn't hold some lessons and keep an eye on them during that time."

"Oh, of course, of course. I expect they will be delighted."

She nods.  "I'd need to take a look at the service schedule, and I'd like to make use of any teaching supplies you might have while I'm still sorting out the manor, but this sounds like a decent agreement in principle.  I suppose it comes down to funds, but - really, I want to do this for how it will benefit the island, and that people are capable of throwing money at me for it...

"Kyros' Empire...it had currencies, but a lot of the distribution of resources was simply administrated.  At least when I was through with it.

"I find myself somewhat still adjusting to the mercantilism - and yet more to the idea that providing needful services to the community ought to result in my remuneration, beyond my costs incurred.  I especially despise the idea that I could be forced to hide knowledge behind a requisition of coin.

"Which is mostly to say that I would rather open the scholar's circle to all, and solicit donations, than even consider charging for admittance, but I am not certain if that's truly feasible."

"I don't know, the church does run on donations, but I don't think I've heard of schools run this way. Might be worth trying."

"...Maybe some sort of proportional scale.  I hardly wish to allow those who have more than enough wealth to pay for this entire island to attend for free."

"I'm sure you can figure something out. There aren’t that many children here, so shouldn't be overwhelming to find a way."

She nods.  "I can but hope.  ...We've some time yet before I should depart; would you like to tell me a bit about your histories?"

"Of course! We should go back to the rectory though."

"Certainly."

"So, Hush House." he rummages through the notes "It's a thousand-and-a-half years of history, so I've taken a liberty of separating it into five distinct periods or 'phases' - Dawn, Solar Gothic, Baronial, Curia and Nocturnal. 

The earliest reliable records I could track down are from year 599 - an Abbey of the Black Dove, sometimes called Abbey of the White Crow is established, a double foundation of monks and nuns. I think there was a much older temple here, possibly in the caves below the isle, but there aren't any surviving records, and the caves are flooded and unsafe. 

In eleventh century, the Abbey Church - St. Brandans - the biggest building, with the spire - is constructed, and the Abbey basically takes on its name, that's the beginning of Solar Gothic Phase. The outer walls and Watchaman's Tower are built, first in wood, then rebuilt in stone after the abbey gives shelter to a tree brougth by new Earl of Cornwall - Brian. The tree is said to flower white, black, and red, a different color every spring. 

Abbey continues to grow - three more towers - Winter, Barber's and Crucible are constructed, the church itself is expanded.

Then, in 1537, King Henry the Eighth initiates the Reformation, and investigates basically all monasteries across the country. St. Brandan is dissolved for 'debaucheries' of its monks, and the isle is granted to Hendrik Dewulf, a former mercenary captain, along with title of a Baron - thus, the Baronial Phase.

The future Dewulfs are more temperate, Thomas - Hendrik's son, is nicknamed 'Baron Silence', which, I think, is from where Hush House takes it current name. Thomas rebuilds Watchman's Tower into an observatory. His son, Giles, elopes with 'pale Hafren', though is later reconciled with his father, and their son Walter becomes third baron. The Grand Ascent - the main stairway of the house - is his work. Then there's Musgrave, fourth baron, he restores Winter Tower as a residence for Julian Coseley, a visiting scholar who assists with expansion of the library, the tower is after that known as Long Tower. His son, Gideon, fifth baron, is a notable healer, and does much of his work in Barber's Tower, known later as Motely Tower after him. 

Valentine, the sixth baron builds Gulllscry Tower, and is quite eccentric and fascinated with birds. He tragically falls from the tower top, and has no sons, so he becomes the last baron, and his daughter Eva inherits as first baroness - at nineteen.

Eva, known as 'the Pale Lady', opens the library, drawing visitors from across Europe and beyond, be it for sophisticated feasts in Hall of Division, some by her reputation. 

Eva never marries, after the incident with Wheelock, and in 1759, her nephew Sebastian is drowned during a war, leaving the family with no heirs. Eva drowns herself after learning of Sebasian's death, and thus ends Dewulf line.

That was... rather a lot even summarized. Any questions? There's even more about the Curia..."

"That is a lot, and it's - positively wondrous.  Even if it's also...

"Sad.  Sad, I think, is the way to describe all of this.  So much lost - so much loss."

"'Though much is taken, much abides' - the phrase that runs throughout Hush House history. Brancrug is no stranger to loss, yet it endures. It is sad, but also beautiful in its own way, like a setting sun."

"But why is it taken, and who is it that says we must merely abide?"

"That I do not know. In case of Dewulfs, it is said that when Hendrik suppressed a rebellion, rather brutally, a local oracle and rebel-leader, Red William, said a curse upon him - 'There will be no seventh of your line'. I don’t know whether the curse is real, but if you only count male line of barons, it does indeed stop at six, followed by rather a lot of drownings."

"...Black and white and red."

"...Pardon me, that just...stuck out.  It's not like red is an uncommon color, but I do find myself wondering if it's related to the blooming tree.  ...And fearing that I thought to wonder, truthfully; I cannot allow myself to descend into the depths of my own mind so deeply, when I am so unmoored.  Not when I have a duty to the Library, however coercedly.  Not when I have a duty to Brancrug's people."

She sighs, suddenly and visibly exhausted.

"It is always so much.  Just once I would love to experience a pleasant surprise."

"You take a lot on yourself, Ophelia. It is admirable, but I do wonder whether it's wise. You just came out of a terrible storm, it hasn't even been a day, and you're already striving to do so much. Brancrug is not going to collapse if you let yourself rest."

"Oh, the storm wasn't hardly anything.  I don't think I even took lasting damage.  But what came before it...

"I am not sure I have the words, which should itself say something about the circumstances.

"And yet, I cannot justify rest until I have finished some very needful work - like ensuring I'll stay fed, and making sure the manor isn't going to kill anything I don't ask it to, and seeing to the Keeper's house..."

"Perhaps one day you can tell me your history, when you're more settled."

"I would be honored to."

"As for now, Curia's history?"

"Yes, please."  She could do with the distraction.

"So, in 1785, a group of scholars - Ambrose Westcott, Kitty Mazarine, Solomon Husher - acquire the deed to the Dewulf estate, and establish 'Curia of the Isle', with Westcott becoming first Librarian of the Hush House. They establish Hush House as a haven of knowledge, a proper library. Westcott is rumoured to have died of apoplexy after a particularly hasty trample up and down the stairs to argue with visiting priests, Mazarine takes over as second Librarian, and later retires peacefully. Husher is the third, and he disappears, leaving only a resignation letter, in winter of 1838, when a heavy snow fell on the Hush House. 

Curia then has some trouble with finding a new Librarian, and Fraser Strathcoyne, Treasurer of the Curia, becomes the fourth, to his annoyance. As soon as they found a suitable candidate, Strathcoyne retired, and Natalia Brulleau became fifth Librarian. After her retirement, Curia is again short on candidates, until the arrival of Williem Harries, who presented the Curia with some 'key long lost', and was appointed sixth Librarian.

The next part is a bit muddy, I couldn't quite figure out when Harries retired or where he went, but Thirza Blake is appointed seventh Librarian, and it's also not clear why. I have no idea why Curia appointed her, she was, by all accounts, quite insane, and eventually, in 1896 brought Hush House to penury. 

Then the Nocturnal branch stepped in, marking another period transition. The Hush House received funding, but submitted to yearly inspections, and surrendered a portion of the Isle - mostly Crucible Tower, to be the Branch's prison. Eighth Librarian was probably also chosen in relation to that - Sir David Greene, a former Nocturnal Branch superintendent. George Collers, formerly Secretary Vigilant of the Curia, was appointed by the branch to be Governor of Cucurbit Prison, as Crucible Tower became known. 

Greene eventually retires, and Brian Levinsen becomes ninth Librarian. About that time, in 1902, something called 'Ortucchio Incident' happens, and Nocturnal Branch is dissolved and reogonized into Suppression Bureau, though it doesn't affect Hush House or Cucurbit much, and Collers remains its Governor.

Brian resigns in 1914 to go volunteer as medical officer in the Great War, and has died there. Serena Blackwood becomes the tenth Librarian, but resigns early over the tensions between her and Collers. Gervinus van Lauren was eleventh, up until the fire seven years ago. And now we are here, 1936, and you are the twelfth Librarian. I should pick a new period name."

"Want more information on anyone specifically? I have rather a lot here."

"...Williem Harries' mysterious disappearance was not a mysterious disappearance, this much I can be relatively certain of.  If he neither died nor was removed, he must have - ascended, somehow; I've no concrete information on how or as to what, but I would bet on it.  I know what Archons look like.  And that explains Thirza, somewhat.  If she wasn't an attempt to - emulate, contact, or influence whatever Willem became...

"It's not immediately relevant, though.

"Tell me about Governor Collers; does he still hold the position?  What are his policies like?"

...She is going to have to seriously consider what she wishes to make emblematic of her 'reign'.  "As for the name of a hypothetical period starting with myself...

"Be careful what you choose, please.  It may come to mean much more than you'd think any word could.

"Perhaps the Archonal, in lieu of any better ideas."  She laughs, but without much humor in it.  "The walking gods of Kyros' Empire were Archons, and Kyros then Archon of Archons and Overlord above, from within the ancient Spires of a long-lost people with far more command of the world than us mere primitives."

"Harries ascending in some way might fit, though I doubt Thriza is that related, she was... rather different from him."

"Collers most likely died in the fire, and no new Governor has been assigned, I have no idea what the Bureau currently thinks of the House. Before the fire, the gaol was used to contain things and people too dangerous for normal prisons, and I think Collers was as interested in studying them as containing. I don't know the detail on his policies, they were internal to the prison, and Bureau is not keen on outsiders peeking at its workings. People were sometimes released, I think there was at least one escape assisted by a lucky earthquake."

"Archonal it is, at least for now."

"-- I said be careful, not assign the first thing I think of, Rector; please leave that space in your notes blank.  At least for now."

She pinches the bridge of her nose, clearly mildly exasperated.

"An Archon is defined and empowered by the stories told of them, and I must be careful with mine - I've already dealt with three Archons, as a mere Fatebinder, and lived to tell the tale - and the regnant Archon of War got his title by killing the prior holder.  Not that that one didn't richly deserve it, he was working for the utter bastard whose general horribleness interrupted my diplomacy with the revelation that he'd most definitely gorged himself on the soul of one of Ashe's children, just to hurt the man - Graven Ashe being the Archon of War, and present at that meeting - but if you even make an Archon bleed, you're closer to holding your own double-edged blade, and I refuse to impale myself upon it by going about mythbuilding stupidly.  Especially after getting a bloody title for how I managed to actually make the seemingly invulnerable Archon of Stone feel pain, when he - having gone rogue, and refusing to even talk about talking about seeking peaceful resolutions - was trying to stop me from reading Kyros' Edict against him.  ...It took a catapultfull of strong acid.  I'm honestly surprised I was the first to try that.

"...It's one of my greatest regrets that I didn't have two.  Perhaps I would not have had to salt my own land, on Kyros' orders, with the fucking Edict of fucking Stone.  That didn't kill him either!

"...Edicts, by the way - with a Capital Letter - are...well, 'supernatural declarations of things that are Going To Happen, in the Empire's known memory only issued by Kyros Themself and a unique symbol of their authority'; I believe they're strongly linked to the ancients' Spires.

"...I may or may not have improvised something off of that framework to open the Manor's gates to me."  ...She seems almost embarrassed to admit to that exercise of hubris.  "And.  Well.  It worked.  To my own surprise."

"Oh, of course. Apologies for my rashness."

"That does indeed sound like a lot going on. I can’t even begin to understand half of what you're saying. I don’t think I ever heard of anything like Edicts being proclaimed directly, but Powers do listen to words spoken of their interests, right words in a right place at a right time have been known to call miracles or curses into the world. And the Hush House is certainly an important place."

She nods.  "Much like the Spires, though made by man."

"Anything more you want to know?"

"I don't believe anything comes to mind, though in truth I'd like to make discussions like this a regular occurrence.

"Well.  I suppose, is there anything you know of that I ought to watch out for?"

"I'd be delighted to."

"I've mentioned van Lauren being known for forbiddings before, right? And I don't think places of importance take kindly to being abandoned, there might be presences there. Unfortunately, I can't offer more detailed advice without knowing the details, besides 'watch out for anything that is out of place'."

"Out of place like paintings knocked askew, or out of place like a chamberpot centerpiece on the dining room table?"

"Either could be a sign of something wrong, or might not be. That's the problem with it. Wouldn't put a chamberpot past being some sort of Thirza's joke, that was preserved for some reason."

"So, there's nothing solid.  Alright.  I'll make do.  At least I have a sense for what I'm doing."

"If you ever need help, you can ask me or maybe others in the village. People who live here usually have at least some knowledge of things that happen around here."

"I'm sure.  You've lived with the place all these years."

"...It has been a pleasure, Rector Timothy; I must, however, meet Denzil at the bridge, so I should take my leave."

"Of course, of course. Good luck to you, Ophelia."

"And may fate be with you, as well."

She departs.  She does not need to hurry.

She arrives at the bridge before the appointed time. 

She'll take another look at it, in the daylight.

It's not in terrible condition, but also not at its best. Parts of it are covered in debris and soil, some of it probably from recent storm, some was likely there for the whole seven years. Here and there stones are missing. It doesn't look like its likely to collapse, but it certainly must be navigated with care.

Well.  Never was there a better time to try picking up the Sigil of Stone than when a stone bridge needs fixing.  ...She barely even noticed navigating this, but it does look like someone less deft and quick than her would have just a bit of trouble with it.  (And that simply will not do.)

She knows the core of it, the boulder, its impact rings.  She's seen its Archon fight, up close and personal.  She's seen Earthshakers do ritual workings.

Hopefully that will allow her to improvise something from the standard forms for this purpose.

...Perhaps Influential Domain...?

...No.  No, it would be wonderful if she could accomplish that, but - Cairn was not the sort to gently mold and shape.  Cairn chose the path of overwhelming power.

So how does overwhelming power solve a broken bridge?

...When Denzil arrives, he finds Ophelia scribbling away with a stylus, and occasionally consulting diagrams of abstruse sigils (- and some in what's probably legible Engineer -) etched in the dirt with a stick.

Denzil approaches the bridge without a word, but far from silent. He rolls a cart, and carries on himself a wide variety of instruments. He looks at Ophelia scribbling with interest mixed with wariness.

"Trying to figure if I can bodge anything together for the stones that need replacing."

Denzil nods, and proceeds towards the birdge itself.

"I'm almost wondering, given the tools I have access to, and the way this Sigil works - whether it would be better to just - magic up a new bridge out of stone, instead of trying to repair the one that already exists.  ...If I can even work the thing; I don't have much in common with Cairn.  Intense obduracy, I suppose, because even with the forty-foot tall man of stone himself bearing down on My City I wheeled out the siege weapons to try and kill him before I could be forced into fucking over an entire province - but he rather dispreferred civilization, while my whole duty has ever been upholding it."

He sets the cart at the foot of the bridge, and doesn't volunteer any opinion.

"I suppose you wouldn't really have anything that you'd know would be useful to add, huh."

"...I should at least see if I can even aspect it, first...

"...I really should have looked into what was actually happening with the underlying stone, too, especially after all the complaints; moving is rather different from making, and I know there's sigils that do both...

"...Mayhap I should test this from down on the beach, instead.  Could do with a path that isn't so treacherous to climb, at least, and if this works at all I should probably be able to make that happen."

"Don't ruin the bridge" mumbles Denzil.

"I intend to do my utmost to prevent that from being a possible outcome of any experiments I might do.  ...You hardly need me around, anyway; I can tell you're the sort that would never willingly do subpar work, and I paid up-front.  I'll leave you to it, shall I?"

He nods, already examining the bridge, and preparing to clear it up.

And Ophelia will presumably find her way down to the beach, in the process of hopefully figuring out the Sigil of Stone and its underlying mechanics, as regards the ability to produce from stone a desired final product.  Such as a bridge, or a large boulder.

(She has to actually succeed in charging it first, however - though she does have some hope that she and Cairn have enough underlying emotional commonality - or, to wit, sheer stubbornness - that it's not hopeless, even without properly organized lore - with only her own witness.)

...The Sigil connects.

Now she needs to figure out how to use it.

...The Forge-Bound and Cairn are not Sigils that she would expect to easily mix.  Still, she needs to at the very least bend the sigil of an Archon that tends more to forcefully wreck, to build.

She tries striking her usual Forge-Bind - her tools, as ever, only herself and her magic.

Her senses highten, and she can feel the concetration of invisible forces all around. The ground beneath her is mundane, the water all around seems to be slightly unusual, and the island on which House stands is definetely a place of power.

...Well that's interesting, if not what she came here to learn.

Now.  Stone, and the shaping thereof.

She is in control.

She stands upon the shoulders of every spiritual descendant of the first man to pick up a rock.  She wields the strength of the Spires themselves.  She will not falter.  And this island is hers.  Her place of power, her ancient Spire-in-waiting.

She traces symbols upon the sand in what most looks like a fugue; the circles-upon-circles of Stone at the focus of the ritual, specialized ritual guides derived from the interaction of sigils of expression with themselves wound outwards - or inwards - about them, and at the strike-point, the Sigil of Force, with which she shall muster the strength to move the world.

The Sigil of Stone is known to respect strength.  It is perhaps yet to be seen if it respects force, or Force - but the Forge-bind suggests, with her sharpened mind and will, that it is possible to bridge this gap - and she is an Archon, this she believes; she does the impossible, she breaks the unbreakable.  This will suffice.

She stands in the center of the diagram, and strikes her staff against the point of the ritual's focus, once, twice, thrice she strikes and done.

And the stone adrift along the crumbling cliffside moves, in an inexorable blur of shattered fragments, melding together piece by piece, reshaping the scree into a neat switchback from the town to the beach.

The stone obeys her will, and once perilous cliffs are now a path.

Some people from the village look down the cliff, surprised by the sudden shake.

Oh, good; it worked.

She'll just make sure it doesn't explode when someone actually tries to use it, shall she, and walk up.

"My apologies for the disturbance, everyone; I would have given better warning, but in this particular case I rather felt I had to strike while the metaphorical iron was hot if I wanted to make this work.  A lot of what I do is impacted by the way I think about it, and recapturing certainty that has fled is simply the worst sort of problem to have - and I'm sure that at least some of you have gotten caught up in projects before, though I imagine there are few of quite this magnitude.

"In other news, I'm intending to fix up the bridge; this was, technically, supposed to be a test of techniques I thought might be fit for the purpose.  It may have...grown, somewhat, in the process."  She sounds almost sheepish.  "...If anyone wants to know, I'd call it a qualified success; there's some problems that exist as regards bridging a river that this exercise avoided."

The people are wary, but apparently mostly satisfied by the explanation and will disperse, with a few remaining and looking at the new switchback, and the remains of the ritual on the beach.

She's brushed the ritual circle away, in puffs of sand and Force; best practices are to not leave things like this lying around, in general, outside of particularly well-controlled environments.

The sigils she has worked into the stone as part of her finishing pass, however, are quite observable, and she will pass comment upon them should someone be obviously looking.  "Those are Sigils of Preservation and Vigor, crossed with Material Form - I'm sure you can see the common elements between the two - and Force, with Proximate Action; to maintain the structure on the one hand, and on the other guard against falls should one be trying to walk the path night-blind.  I believe it will help steady carts, as well, though that is only something I have heard of, rather than done.  I've put in safeguards of a more material sort against accidents, I'm sure you can see the railings - but the redundancy can hardly hurt."

The onlookers nod confusedly, and continue looking at the cliffs, talking to each other.

"...Perhaps I shall take up teaching more than just letters and numbers, at this rate."

What's the tenor of the discussion?

Mostly gawking and idle chatter, with some excitement thrown in.

Right.  She'll probably be heading back to the bridge site, then, though if anyone does strike up a conversation, she'll hardly turn them away.

Though perhaps she should make an announcement, since everyone is already here.

"Ahem.  While I have your attention, ladies, gentlemen, and other distinguished beings, I would like to make an announcement."  She seems quite used to public speaking; her voice carries well, and she enunciates clearly.  "As you may have already heard, I have recently been offered - and accepted - the mantle of Librarian of Hush House.  I intend for my presence here to be to Brancrug's benefit, and to that effect, I wish to make known that my services as mage, judge, and teacher will be made available to those that would have use of them.  Some details remain to be worked out at the moment, but I refuse to be some distant, unknowable overlord, locked away in the manor's spires.  I would consider myself notably competent in the field of healing - and, to a lesset extent, midwifery - with magical aid, amongst others that I practice, and would have it known that I intend that those who are resident upon the Isle shall never be charged for such help, as sickness and injury are threats to us all and it takes quite little of my time to mend them.  I am buoyed enough by your wellness and continued contribution to our collective lives, and I hope that my tenure will be a positive contribution of my own.  ...Thank you for your time."

The people are a bit wary, especially around mentions of magery, but they nod in acknowledgement.

Well, that's just great.  "...I don't know much about your prior experiences with magic, folk of Brancrug, but I can promise you that sigils, such as I used to accomplish this, are nearly the exact opposite in nature as what local lore I have yet encountered.  They're safe, predictable, and repeatable; their nature is such that no matter your method of approach, you will find the same Sigil and the same spells. Though the initial derivation of them may deal with the analysis of stranger powers, they are works of man, through and through; they behave according to the will of man, not some strange power with stranger demands.  They do exactly what they say they shall do, and they will do no further.  Should I use the Sigil of Life to heal a wound, it will promote life and growth, and do naught else.  Should I cast the Sigil of Vigor, it will sustain one's vigor, and naught else.  That's something of a problem when you're using it to keep an army on the march, actually, but I can attest that a General who would sooner die himself than subject his men to needless risk trusted that Sigil for that exact purpose.  I will not risk harming people who have come to me for help, not unless I've exhausted my options to help in any other way.  This I swear upon my honor and my oath, and may the Justice I'm sworn to strike me down where I stand should I fail to keep it."

This doesn't especially serve to reassure them, though they're certrainly impressed by the speech.

Only time will tell, then.

She'll be heading back to the bridge now, unless anyone wants to talk to her.

Denzil has finished cleaning up the debris, and started patching the bridge up, closing up holes and reinforcing weaker parts. He briefly looks at Ophelia when she approaches, before returning to his work.

"Upshot of my investigations on Stone is that it doesn't seem to like to create out of nothing, unlike some other Sigils, and the cliffs are now a ramp because I was doing magic anyway.  I'd probably have better luck with making a bridge out of ice if I wanted to do things with just what we have on-site.  Even with the question of how to get the dang thing to stay un-melted afterwards.  ...There a quarry anywhere on the island?"

Denzil shakes his head, without interrupting the work.

"Thanks.  Anything that'd be a help, if I could do it?"

He shakes his head again.

"Alright.  I've got plenty of projects to start in the manor, so I'm going to go work on those.  Let me know if something comes up, I suppose."

...A little while later, she's come back from surveying the groundskeeper's house - seems to be in pretty good condition, considering, and she did find the physical key to the House - with a jug of ice-water, since she'd been meaning to brush up on Frost and Fire anyway.  "Thought you could use something cool to drink, given you're out working in high noon.  Going back into town, despite my earlier plans; realized I forgot to send a letter."

Denzil takes the jug and nods. 

And she will...do that, presumably, and perhaps see to lunch if it's around that time.  Up next on her agenda is reviewing the rest of the things from the groundskeeper's cottage.

Sending a letter is just one pence, and doesn't cause any trouble.

Keeper's Lodge has, besides a large iron key:
- A fireplace
- A bed and a basketful of laundry
- Some potted plants
- A pair of mirrors, one of them cracked
- A set of plates and glasses
- A bottle labelled 'Dandelion wine', packets of tea and coffee, and some bread. Which looks fresh, despite presumably being here for seven years

As well as some books:
- Travelling At Night, C.I, first and second volumes.
- To a Pale Lady, F.B.
- De Horis, book 2.

Well.  That is interesting.

She'll read the books.

Travelling at Night: Annotated dream journals of Christopher Illopoly. Most of the first volume references something called 'The Wood' - a dream of a dark forest inhabited by snakes, various giant insects and other creatures. "The Wood lies outside the walls of the Mansus. As any student of the Histories knows, the Mansus has no walls". It suggests that cutting a lock of your own hair, and burning it, can help guide you through the Wood. 

Second volume focuses more on comparions between Illopoly's dreams and those of Emperor Elagabalus (implied to be a long-dead historical figure), and makes mention of such things as 'The White', 'The White Door', 'Sun-in-Rags', and suggests connections between all those things and silence.

To a Pale Lady: A collection of letters from Franklin Bancroft to Eva Dewulf. Between vaguely (or sometimes overtly) erotic poetry and discussions of collaborating on a comic opera, it's hard to figure out whether anything of this is useful information.

De Horis: She quickly realizes that she can't actually read the language. It's similar to the local one she can inexplicably read, but not similar enough to be comprehensible.

Well, that's rude of it.  If it's linguistically similar to the modern tongue, does working backwards seem like it helps any?

Two names seem repeated throughout the book, and it looks like it describes some sort of conflict between them, but beyond that, hard to tell.

Rude of knowledge to be cryptically obscured by mere linguistic differences.  If glaring at this with the full weight of her powers as Librarian does not fix this, for some inexplicable reason, then she will be heading into the Library proper and looking for -to-English dictionaries.

Frankly she's glad of the inexplicable correspondence between Court tongue and this place's, but it is still annoying.

She has a choice between continuing exploration of the main building with the suspiciously magical stairway, or checking out either of the two towers near the gate.

Well, she'll check those two places, but it's probably going to be in the places with books, so, braving the Spooky Magic Staircase it probably must be.

The closest tower (the one with broken glass roof) does turn out to have books! The first floor room is in rather poor conditions, and the stairway up is blocked by debris, but there's a large secretary desk with many drawers, some of which happen to contain books.

- On Thirstrlies, Ivories and Lovelies, F.A.
- On the White, S.H.
- Journal of Thomas Dewulf.
- It Is Written, M.D.
- Letters from a Fugitive, L.W.
- And, be it whims of fate, or just luck, Gildersleeve's Latin Grammar.

There's also a rather dusty armillary in the corner.

...

Books should be in the Library.  What is this mess.

Alright, she's just going to fix the roof, once she's cleared a way to get up there and see what she's actually doing as she's doing this, because that needs fixing, and she thinks she has a good idea of how the Sages would have done Preservation now that she's doing this and she knows the Sigil which means she can do it -

But then she has books to organize - or rather, prepare to organize.  She has thoughts.

"On The White" goes in her "read this sooner rather than later" pile, though, because it seems like it's not going to be incredibly fucking obfuscated like everything else gets.

She's probably going to want to make a whole townsfolk holiday event thing out of going over the damn Manor and finding where all the books are, really.  Clearing up the place.  Making it a bit less fucking bleak.  Once she makes sure it's not going to eat anyone that's not her, because she doesn't, in fact, know that.  That is an immediate priority.

...She checks her notes and chucks the journal of Thomas DeWulf into the 'immediate reading' pile, too.  That's local history, and if he was in charge of this bloody mess maybe he has some useful advice.  She might hire the Rector on as official historian, if he'll let her.

Anyway.  She has priorities, in rough order as follows: (Organization, Defenses,) (Staff, Funding,) (Knowledge, Books.)

They are all going to be pains in her ass, but they're at least going to be pains in her ass at different points in time, so she'll take it.

She really needs a proper planning board or three.

She can, at least, restart her long-term to-do list.

Well, no, this is her medium-term list; the longer-term one just won't fit in her diptych.

Map the Manor

Safe the Manor

Repair and Clean the Manor (Talk to Mayor of Brancrug?  Denzil, for missing pieces.)

Develop Book Organizational System.  Better than Fatebinders' Library.

It really didn't have much to recommend it other than 'existing'.

Staff Library with other people.  (Rector?  Appoint as Manor Historian, possibly.)

Sort books into new organizational system.

Learn what these people even mean by their mystery-cult shit.

Figure out enough politics to not suddenly die of it.

Anyway, there's exactly one thing she can actually make progress on, of these goals, and it's "talk to the Rector about funding his hobby".  So it's time for another letter!

Dear Rector Timothy,

You seemed rather interested in the history of Hush House.

I desperately need people who have some idea how to handle books and organization, and probably won't stab me in the back for political reasons.

It seems to me that we may be able to make an exchange of mutual benefit in this matter.

I have not pinned down the precise structure of the organization I wish to develop, but I certainly wish to see no future seven-year gaps in the operation of the Library of Hush House, nor such disastrous disorganization of the grounds, no matter the occult significance of the manor's seat being occupied or un-.

I would therefore invite you to serve as the Manor's official Historian, and possibly a subtended Librarian of some description, as and if it does not interfere with your other duties as Rector.  This will indubitably become a salaried position as soon as the Manor has any sort of funding, but as it is, all I have for myself as of yet, and would be able to promise you, is the chance to help make the history, in addition to studying it.

Please feel free to speak to me at the Keeper's Lodge if you have further questions.

May fate be with you,

--Fatebinder O. Vaudelle

Head Librarian, Library of Brancrug

Signed, sealed, delivered.

She needs a seal for Library business, as opposed to personal/Fatebinder matters.  She might have something in mind, now that she thinks about it.

...Hmm.  Yeah.  She does have something in mind.  It's a bit fancy, but it's worth being fancy for this.  Now all she needs is some stone dust, and she can replicate her earlier trick with the ritual to form a blank...

An open book, wrapped in a chain that extends from a padlock upon the page; a hand extends from above, holding a quill that rests in the padlock's keyhole.  A motto beneath: Unlocking The Secrets Of Knowledge - hmm, no, she'll do it in Latin.  A brief dictionary dive occurs, and she returns with Secreta Cognitionis Reserans.

She thinks it will do nicely, but she's not certain it will survive politics.  Still...She's proud of it.

Anyway, time to deliver the letter.  How's the bridge going?

Denzil seems to have finished the repairs and left. The bridge is now safe for an ordinary person to traverse.

Hooray.

(She recovers the pitcher that used to be full of icewater and sets it aside for cleaning.)

Really, she feels vaguely silly about delivering an entire letter when she's indubitably going to talk to the man soon enough, but she thinks it's something that ought to be a latter.

Nothing surprising happens as she does this, she hopes?  She'll check the post office and see if anything else has come in.  ...Then she'll go eat dinner whether or not there is anything because she shouldn't risk getting the food on her paperwork, and if there is something she can come back afterwards.

She has a few questions for the barkeep, anyway.  Like where the food comes from and who actually runs the town.

Nothing at the post office, and she can get dinner for another two pence.

"There's fish, and some people have small gardens, but we do mostly rely on nearby town for food. I think the House has its own gardens, though those Bureau brutes didn't care much about them."

"We don't really have any official mayor or anything like that, if people can't agree on something they may ask the Rector, or maybe Mr. Kille."

She nods.  "I'm going to want to get those gardens back up and running; I have some practical experience with farming, but I am already short of hands with just the Library itself on my plate.  Anyone you'd recommend?  Preferably with the inclination to - if not learn themself, then still deal with the use of magic, because I intend to be speeding the crops along as best I can."

"Nobody I'd know offhand, might have to wait until some gardener visits us, and agrees to stay."

Mm.  That's unfortunate.

"...Mm.  That's unfortunate.  My ability to trust people who are not long-term residents of Brancrug is...minimal; I simply do not know enough of the people there, to know what sorts of enemies that I simply cannot assume that I do not already have.  Let alone what they might try to do to me, and how I would or would not be able to respond thereto."

"Well, I can only wish you good luck and a clear day."

"I thank you, nonetheless.  Do put the word out, about the gardens, if you would?"

"Of course."

"My thanks."

She'll spend this evening working out an organizational system's theoretical framework, she thinks.  That, and reading Dewulf's journal, in the hopes that it will reveal something about the more esoteric incoming problems.

Unfortunately, Thomas wasn't the kind to write down the entirety of his life in a journal, the records are sparse, and mostly utilitarian - reminders to himself about various events, local, social and astrological. Two consecutive entries separated by a year read "Giles ran away" and "Giles has returned". 

At one point, the entries become much denser, and appearr to be construction logs for the observatory in the Watchman's tower. There are intricate diagrams of lenses, and also a few notes regarding how all lensmakers are incompetent.

The construction is finished in 1576. Entries from 1577 are notably more animated:

"A Great Comet hath visited our Sky Above, a smoking star, a dazzling cloud."

"Wind, Moon, and Shell in the Heavens Inferior were known to Thomas of the Black Dove. My predecessor knew this Truth - three Blossoms hath the Watchman's Tree: Paper; Ink; and Flame. The Great Comet, I now aver, is that Flame. I shall call the Dream of a Star to me tonight, shall the night permit me."

The excited tone slowly fades, returning to the style similar to earliest ones.

What the fuck is he on about.

She presumes that whatever the fuck it is he tried, he probably failed, because he was present to recount it.  But still, what the fuck.  Who the fuck, even.  Thomas of the Black Dove?  Why the pretentious --

Mystery cults!

She is positively tearing her hair out over all this bullshit.

...Well, not literally.  But still.  This is just absurd.  She's going to have to make a classification system robust to arbitrary Archon-shaped surprises coming out of her shelves.  She hopes Rector Timothy has relevant knowledge in this field, because things just keep being confusing.

She's going to crack open On The White and see if it's just as obtuse, and then she's going to go to sleep, because she is very done with this.

On the White, by Solomon Husher, epigraphed "Sunset at Noon", doesn't prove to be a very clear book either, intermixing an allegorical 'long slow doomed romance of Winter and the Sun', various theories of aesthetics, and Husher's own rather depressive thoughts. There's a set of recurring phrases, which Husher claims contain "secret words of Winter", focusing around the theme of slience, but greater meaning not immediately apparent.

Oh, for sod's sake.

Does the morning bring anything that is straightforward to her door?

The Keeper's Lodge is around her, and nothing seems to have come to her door overnight, straightforward or not.

...She'll take it.

Alright, it's time to start compiling everything that could possibly be a thing into the natal state of an actual reference book on occult subjects.  Especially things that have capital letters attached.

She probably has to make her way to the tower, because there definetely isn't enough paper in Keeper's lodge for this, but there's some in the desk, and she can probably be done in a couple hours, if she sticks to the books she has already skimmed.

Oh, hardly.  She wants at least a representative sample of the Library.  This means she's going to set out to skim a couple hundred random books, or at least twelve dozen, write down every unique term - especially terms of art - and start counting occurrences.  She's not doing any definitions, yet.  That comes later, when she has an idea of what she might be defining.

...She is promptly going to retire this plan when she encounters The Stairs And Their Weird Bullshit again.

Sure, the books seem randomly sorted in the one room she's tested.  But were they?  She doesn't know, because this library was run by fucking mystery cultists!

She...is going to wait for literally anyone else to be here, in case the wards try to kill her before she pokes them.  But she needs to do that at some point.  For fuck's sake...

She may as well sample the books in the one room she's been in, though, while she waits.  So she'll spend most of her time in that room, and check for visitors at the Lodge in between skimming, tallying, and hopefully starting to sort books.

Some time later, somebody knocks at the door of the lodge.

"Ophelia?" It's Timothy's voice.

"Timothy, it's good to hear from you.  I'm trying to get an idea of where I could possibly begin organizing these books and finding that that poses about as much of a problem as wrangling Archons.  And this is only one-and-a-fraction's rooms worth of books, so far, which, speaking of, could you do me a favor and help make sure I don't die if I poke the wards and they decide they don't like me?"

"Oh... Of course, lead the way."

"Really, all you need to do is - if I'm suddenly struck by lightning, pull me back out of range, please."

She has a rope and everything all ready.  And when that's set up, she'll approach the Mysterious Magical Bullshit.

"This fucking house."

The room as filled with Mysterious Magic Bullshit as she left it last time. 

As she enters the room, it starts to gather around her, and the air gets even thicker.

Does it become any more legible as it does so?

It still doesn't do analytical legibility - she can't see any structure to it beyond concentration of power, but if she focuses on it, she can get a feeling of what it does - it's similar to looking at an Archon's power, though much more lowkey - it doesn't have a structure, but it has a vibe - protection, stopping, warding. 

She can notice it's harder to move now, except in the direction she came from.

"Interesting.  This power isn't structured as a Sigil would be, though it has a...taste, like one; it's more reminiscent of a relic, or an Archon.  Of Forces, perhaps, or reminiscent of some of the seemingly-inexplicable things the Archon of Time was reputed to be able to accomplish that one would have thought had nothing to do with time and the progression thereof...And even discounting Icarix, who was unusually absurd even by Archons' standards, we have the example of Nerat's Sigil-based instantaneous transportation, the Illusory False Pit, and Bleden Mark's ability to see and reach through shadows...Regardless, though, it is a ward, and it presses back against me as I push forward in equal measure, seeming...oh, hmm, Stasis.  That's only been proven in an accent, but...hmm..."

She thinks she has a trick for this, come to think of it.

(She has more than one in mind, actually.)

Perhaps if she Unravels the Mind of the ward with the one hand, and deploys a Mirror Image with the other so that the resultant confusion settles on pushing those mirror images and not herself...

Well.  First, she declaims the following: "I have had this conversation with the gate; I have passed through it, needing naught besides my right.  I am the duly-acclaimed Librarian of Hush House, and naught that is of Hush House shall bar the Librarian about their duty, nor shall that whicn is not of Hush House be allowed to remain to so impede Librarians - so reveal your purpose to me or stand aside.  This is your first and only warning, before I resort to measures."

"I think it might be one of van Lauren’s forbiddings, though it’s unusual that it is here, this part of the House was open to visitors."

The magic does not react to her proclamation. 

"Well.  Having words with it didn't work."

"...Let's see if doing some twisty corkscrew thinky shit does.  It's helped with Sigils before."

She'll just back out of the magic for right now, and untie the rope she's probably not going to need for this.

...Actually she's going to see if she can lasso something within the forbiddance's area of effect, since the rope is already there anyway...

But first, she needs to inhabit the mindset of Van Lauren.  Why would this forbiddance be here?

For that particular question, she has advantage over Timothy in that she can see the concentration of magic - it seems stronger the further up the stair she looks, and the parts in the room seem flow-y. Perhaps, it wasn’t originally here at all…

"...why the fuck would it...spring a leak?"

"Huh. Well, many things can spring a leak in seven unattended years. Didn’t expect that, but I guess it makes some sort of sense."

"More sense than anything else has made.  It's mystery cults all the way down, I swear..."

...Anyway.  With the theory that this is, somehow, spontaneously-arising loose aspected mana...

"...I wonder if I could use this for, effectively, a crafting material.  Metaphysically speaking."

"Should I be ready to pull you out?"

"I don't believe myself to be in particular danger, but that's no excuse to slack on safety precautions.  But what I should first do, is actually design a proper ritual for this.  I'm thinking that I want to convert all this leaky forbiddance into book wards. Because this is a library, and our books sha'n't be left to suffer preventable harm if we can help it whatsoever, I think."

"Indeed. I have no idea what previous librarians did about it, though I think there must've been something."

"Presumably magic, or not having this particular problem."

"Hmm..."

What she has is Force over Influential Domain, and what she needs is Preservation over Material Form...So how can she get there from here?

...Via the Forge-bind.  But that hasn't exactly been worked out as a Sigil proper, and she doesn't have the right drugs to try looking, so what can she do that would still be like?  Fire, Force again, Stone, perhaps...And that's not really even considering Influential Domain to Material Form, no matter that the Forge-bind does have relevant elements...

(To say nothing of how this is absolute auroch dung, magic-theoretically - but she's an Archon, dammit.  She's going to bullshit the shit out of this shit.)