𝑡𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑘 𝑜𝑓 𝑑𝑎𝑤𝑛 | 𝐆𝐈𝐋𝐀𝐍 𝐃𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐃𝐒𝐎𝐍

15⋆☾⋆Unexpected allies

With a cloak of hopelessness wrapping itself around me I gazed over the hundreds, no thousands rolls of parchment, books, maps and other documents all dating back decades ago laying in the long rows of shelves. There was no way I was ever going to find anything that could help me find where my parents went. It was my hope I'd find my father's birth certificate or at least a file on him where it stated where he was born. It was the most likely my family had gone back to a place they knew, where people knew them and could help feed the children. 

I had decided to break into the archive room once again to numb the pain of Gilan's absence. After all maybe I'd be able to concentrate better if he wasn't here with me. But with the towers of work I saw ahead of me and with no clue of where to start, I grew even more anxious than before. 

As I rummaged through an arbitrary pile of books, the door croaked open softly and a second light entered the dimly lit archive. I spun around to see who it was and to know which excuse I had to think up now. 

There, stood a shy boy, who seemed as if he'd seen a ghost the moment he laid eyes on me, with a small lantern in his one hand and a brown envelope in the other. His red hair was neatly combed, his white tunic with long dark grey sleeves and deep blue shawl signifying his rank as a scribe's apprentice. Even with other clothes he'd looked the part, because he was every bit someone who sat in a courtroom or debate hall all day and never saw the sun. 

"Oh," he mumbled, looking around and grinning sheepishly, "I thought I'd be alone here." 

A warm glow went over my sister heart and I couldn't help but melt a little. I made my way over to the corner where I had dumped my cloak. 

"It's all right," I waved my hand around, "I will leave you to be with your work." 

"No!" George hastily said, not moving an inch form his position, "it's fine you can continue on." 

I nodded slowly and turned back to the shelves. The young scribe apprentice( Yes, young, even though he was probably only a few years younger.) dumped his papers on the small desk and sat down, hunching over it. 

With a frown on my face I kept looking and apparently I was so readable that even the scared-to -death George found the courage to ask: "What are you searching for?" 

"Gilan needed files on a family that lived on the east side of Wensley, where the forest and the Tarbus meet. But I don't know where to look." I sighed.

The suddenly not so shy teen's eyebrows shot up, as did he and he walked over to a shelf on the other side of where I was looking. He rummaged through some cabinets and then his voice reverberated over the cold stone walls. "Which family?" 

I swallowed thickly, staring blankly in front of me. Were they even my family anymore? Did I have the right to call them that? 

"Rolfe." 

More rumbling, rolls being shifted and finally the verdict: "There's nothing here." 

His pale face and red hair peeked out over the bookcase and he gave me the same look a lost puppy would. "Are you sure that's the right name?" 

I snapped out of my gaze and nervously nibbled on my finger nails. "Could you try Beolin Rolfe? Maybe there's a birth certificate or a family tree."